Give Me Wings To Fly With
by Smaradgus
Summary: Having Harry Potter locked up as a dangerous beast, the Ministry shows no signs of gratitude for the Defeater of Voldemort. Until there is a new threat to be considered...HPDM
1. Discarded Heroes

_**Give Me Wings to Fly With**_

_**Summary**_: Having Harry Potter locked up as a dangerous beast, the Ministry shows no signs of gratitude for the Defeater of Voldemort. Until there is a new threat to be considered...

_**Warnings**_: Violence (perhaps even some gore), cursing, established relationship (HPDM), Character Death

_**Disclaimer**_: Not mine but Rowling's.

**A/N:** This complete story will consist of 16 chapters plus an epilogue and it will be updated once/twice a week. AU after the fifth book.

Beta'd by the most awesome girl of the Channel Islands, purplerawr. Thanks, m'dear!

* * *

**Chapter I - Discarded Heroes**

_Beings of Magic: Volume III, Dark and Beautiful (ch. 12, p. 455) _

_Valerius, or Black Veela as some call them, are a rare breed of magical beings, distantly related to Veela and Muriens. There is not much known about the history of the Valerius, except that they are ancient and possibly existed in even as so early as the Victorian Era. The number of the species has rapidly decreased, mostly due to their rather unstable and fierce nature that has lead them to be hunted, imprisoned or even killed, and thus, the last sighting of a full-grown Valerius was in the Dark Ages. Some say there is an ancient curse, going all the way back to the beginning of the Wizarding civilisation, that can turn a normal Wizard into a Valerius, but it is unlikely as the power such curse demands would most probably kill both the caster and the victim. _

_Only recent studies have shown that in the presence of their so-called pack, however, consisting of their mate (see p. 601) and most trusted members of their family, Valerius do not show any sign of aggression or hostility unless the pack is threatened. In fact, Valerius have been told to be very human-like and gentle when not left alone. Much of this, of course, is up to speculation as there has not been a Valerius to study on for centuries. _

"I want to see him. _Right now._"

Draco Malfoy gave his best glare of death towards the prim looking witch behind the shiny counter in the lowest level of the Ministry, accompanied with a clenched fist hitting loudly against the wooden surface of the counter. Behind the enraged young man with silky, impossibly white locks of hair, an aristocratic face and pricey, smooth robes were two other people. A young, slim woman with her dark brown hair gathered together with a clasp and narrowed, hazel eyes and an equally young, tall and broad-shouldered man with flaming red hair and a deep frown across his freckled face.

Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley exchanged a glance before Hermione placed a calming hand on the irate blonde's arm while Ron stepped forward, his cold, blue eyes fixating on the haughty woman clad in Ministry robes.

"We haven't seen him for two weeks, Ms. Prissy," the redhead venomously hissed, towering over the counter with his very tall build but still somehow managing to keep his distance so that the Ministry guards wouldn't intervene. "That's two weeks, _fourteen days_ if you aren't able to count."

"I clearly remember the contract saying that the time periods between the visits can be only seven days," Hermione stated coldly, shooting daggers at the witch while keeping a restraining hand on Draco's arm. "We have been trying to get in touch with him for a week now and I _really_ think that the time for that visit _is_ today."

"I am fully aware of the contract, Ms. Granger," the witch stiffly declared. "However, the circumstances right now clearly indicate that -"

"_What_ circumstances, pray tell?" Draco sneered at her, his hand badly itching to snatch his wand from his pocket - before he recalled that his wand was with the security officials. That made him sneer even harder and his mood became more sour and glowering. Mainly to entertain himself and to keep his temper in check, he called images to his mind; delicious images involving a certain Ministry official very much in pain.

The witch sniffed. "There has been some complications -"

"Complications?" Hermione's eyes narrowed even further. "What complications and why weren't we informed?"

"Only his legal family would have the right for that knowledge -"

The witch wasn't able to finish her sentence this time either. Ron let out a strange, strangled sound and his red hair almost seemed to have caught fire.

"Legal family, you say?" he spoke with bitter spite. "If you're saying _we_ aren't his family, then you've got some facts wrong, missy!"

"He's pretty much adopted into the Weasley clan," Draco hissed, a fact that he wasn't overly fond of, but could live with. The Weasleys had, after all, welcomed him with what some could distantly describe open arms – with a couple of exceptions – , even though they had every reason to reject the relationship Draco had with Harry and shun him. "And _I_ am his _fiancé_. Isn't that family enough?"

The Ministry witch opened her mouth again but this time, Hermione let go of Draco's arm and marched close to the desk, leaning over it. Her tamed, sleek hair was frizzling again like the way it did when they were still in school. Draco looked on with dark, gleeful anticipation, fully aware how a truly angry Hermione would behave. "You listen to me, you miserable little shit, and listen well. I know my rights and I happen to know his, too. I also know there shouldn't be anything preventing us from seeing him. So, I suggest you hop up from your nice little leather chair and skip off to let us in, or I swear to God, that by the end of this week, you will find yourself sacked, homeless and living off from the Muggle streets. _If you're lucky._"

The witch paled a bit and leaned back, away from Hermione. She took a moment to compose herself while Hermione stepped back to Ron and Draco. All three were glaring at the witch who visibly flustered under the immense waves of hatred.

"Fine, fine... " she finally muttered and quickly took a quill, scribbling something into a small piece of parchment which she sent off with a whispered word. Within minutes, a familiar door opened across the small hall and a guard peeked through, looking at them quizzically.

"Ms. Granger, Mr. Weasley and Mr. Malfoy are wishing to visit Mr. Potter," the witch told him, her voice rather rigid. "They have an hour, as usual."

The guard nodded and gestured the three occupants to follow him. With last glares towards the witch, Draco, Ron and Hermione took off after the guard and the door banged close behind them, sealing magically. The group of four travelled through the wide corridors with metallic doors on both sides, some with small windows with bars and names above them, occasional growls or suppressed whimpers echoing in the space. For someone never having visited the lower levels of the Ministry, the haunting, depressing atmosphere would have come as a shock, but regrettably, Draco, Ron and Hermione did have some hapless experience regarding the mostly unknown secrets the Ministry held.

Soon, they arrived at the end of the corridor where there was a door as well and a burly guard standing by. On the door, there was a sign with the words _Extremely Dangerous, Off Limits Without Permission_.

The sight of it always made Draco feel extremely bad. _What did he ever do to deserve this kind of treatment? Oh yes, he just saved the world. He should be treated like a king, hailed and loved, but this is what he has become. This is what they made him become._

"Ms. Granger, Mr. Weasley and Mr. Malfoy to see Mr. Potter," the guard accompanying the three young people said and the door-guard checked his papers and ensured none of the visitors were carrying wands before nodding. "All fine."

The guard flicked his wand against the door and it clicked open after glowing blue for a second. Draco didn't wait for a second more and pushed through the door with Hermione and Ron not a step behind. They came into a large room with plenty of completely empty space on the sides for surveillance and a small area, barely the size of a tiny bedroom, restricted with strong bars in the centre. Inside the bars there was a small cot with grey blankets and a tiny toilet area with little privacy. A wrinkled photo of four, smiling people and a battered, stuffed toy-dragon were the only things telling there was actually someone living in the cage. For there was.

* * *

_Beings of Magic: Volume III, Dark and Beautiful (ch. 12, p. 500) _

_The appearance of a Valerius is very human-like with some distinguishable features, the most distinct being its eagle-like, either midnight blue, dark green or black wings. The wings can be retracted, but not unless the Valerius is feeling completely safe and content, and there is no threat against its mate and/or pack. Much like the Veela, a Valerius changes appearance in danger or when its angered or devoid of any human contact. The eyes become completely black with no whites or pupils visible and Valerius' behaviour becomes animalistic and either feline or canine-like. The canines, which are long and sharp in normal occasion, as well, grow length in order to scare off the possible attacker. Normally, Valerius are able to speak human language, but when its strong urges and instincts take over, the species usually resorts to hissing and growling. _

* * *

"Sweet Merlin," breathed Draco, who had reached the bars first. "Harry!"

Hermione took one look and swivelled around to face the guard trailing after them. "What the _hell_ have you _done_ to him?"

"He resisted when we tried to collect his blood," the guard shrugged, eyeing Hermione cautiously like she would jump on him anytime and claw his eyes out. Which, in all likelihood, was quite possible. "We had to secure our personnel by handling the situation."

"_Handling the situation?"_ Hermione practically screamed. "Oh you will hear about this, mark my words."

The she whipped back around to put her eyes on her best friend, stifling a horrified gasp as she had a better look at him.

The Saviour of the Wizarding World, the best friend of Ron and Hermione, Draco's betrothed, the best graduated student in Hogwarts, the most talented Auror-trainee many had seen and the latest victim of Ministry's bigoted and old-fashioned laws; Harry Potter was laying on the cold, rough floor, curled into a ball. He was only wearing a pair of tattered jeans, from the time he had been apprehended, and his thinned upper body was bare, showing dark purple bruises over his ribs and shoulder blades. The once mighty and glossy wings rising from Harry's upper back, black with dark, rich red on the tips of the long feathers, were dulled and laying uselessly on the floor like a bundle of dead birds sprawled around Harry's body. His pale, even fragile looking face with hollow cheeks was resting against his other, neatly tucked hand, brilliantly bright eyes squeezed shut. There was a cut across one of his cheek and a busted lip made his mouth seem disfigured. Strands of jet-black, shaggy hair were covering his forehead, and at the same time, hiding the slowly fading scar there.

Draco was gripping the iron bars with whitened knuckles, his face pressed against the space betwee two bars. "Harry! Harry, can you hear me?"

Harry gave a small twitch, moaning a little. The wings fluttered slightly, feathers scraping the floor. A pale Ron glared at the guard shuffling restlessly nearby. "Open the door, now."

The guard gripped his wand tighter and shot a look at Harry, but reluctantly moved to the door of the cage. Something was whispered, a light blue light flashed and the door creaked slightly ajar with a shrill, warning buzz. That sound made Harry jolt and his darkened eyes snapped open like pools of glistering oil, not blinking as he trained his gaze on the guard on the door. The winged young man let out a low, inhumane growl, picking himself up from the floor with amazingly fluid grace bearing resemblance to a cat. He snarled at the guard with narrowed eyes, baring his predatory, white canines with animalistic hostility.

"Easy there," barked the guard, raising his wand threateningly and causing Harry to hiss venomously. Harry, however, backed away from the door, dropping into a low crouch while his wings, still matted and scruffy, were twitching in an agitated manner. His eyes, nevertheless, were the most intimidating. They were unnaturally bright in their blackness, though dulled by the captivity, and held nothing else than enmity and that certain wilderness only wild animals usually possessed. Yet, it was nothing new to Hermione, Ron and Draco, and they regarded the situation with worry and helpless sorrow.

"Harry, sweetie?" Draco stepped closer, unafraid. Harry, who hadn't seen anyone else than the guard yet, whipped his head towards him. The change was immediate. Harry inhaled a deep breath, blinked rapidly and his aggressive pose relaxed somewhat and he steadily gazed towards the blond until the look of recognition flooded into his eyes.

"Draco?" came the lost croak, and Draco sneered quickly at the guard.

"Can we go in?"

The guard nodded briefly and took a step away. "You know the rules by now. You have an hour."

No-one bothered to watch as the guard left the brightly lit room and the trio quickly entered the cage, the door closing behind them soundlessly. To an outsider, it would have looked an act of insanity, but people dealing with Harry knew better.

The moment the three youngsters were in the area isolated by the unbreakable bars, Harry let out a breathless sound and lunged towards them. However, instead of attacking them like many would have obviously thought, Harry latched himself onto Draco, wrapping his arms and wings tightly around the taller man. The black haired man nuzzled Draco's neck, making happy purring sounds like an oversized kitten.

"Missed you, Draco," Harry murmured, his voice hoarse and gruff. Bright green eyes, the blackness slowly fading, looked up into the grey ones, looking more human than before. Draco swallowed and pressed a gentle kiss on Harry's forehead. "Missed you, too, sweetie."

After awhile they broke off, allowing Harry to notice his other visitors as well. Ron and Hermione weren't disgruntled at not being noticed right away, it was natural, after all, that the foremost attention went to the mate first.

"Oh, honey." Hermione's tone was sorrowful. "What have they done to you?"

* * *

_Beings of Magic: Volume III, Dark and Beautiful (ch. 13, p. 522) _

_Valerius' blood is said to have some potentially magical abilities that can be utilized in several Potions. A few drops of the blood can enhance boosting and energizing Potions like Strength Boost Elixir as well as some certain Healing Potions. It can, however, be also used in Demolishing Potions to make them more explosive and volatile. Using Valerius blood is very challenging since the ingredient is very hard to come by due to the rarity of the breed, and collecting blood from a living Valerius may prove to be extremely hazardous for the collector. _

* * *

Harry's wings twitched restlessly and a shadow flickered across Harry's features before the man offered a sad smile, his canines flashing a bit. "'Mione... Ron..."

Before long, the three old friends were engulfed in an embrace. It wasn't as long as the one with Draco, but affectionate enough. Soon, Harry pulled away, tilting his face upwards to observe his friends while Draco sneaked a hand around his slim waist. "It's good to see you... "

Hermione grimaced. "I'm sorry we haven't been here earlier, Harry. We tried, but they wouldn't let us see you."

Harry cocked his head to the side. "So it has been longer that a week, then?"

"It has, mate," Ron affirmed, settling down onto the floor to sit. "And I guess your condition is the reason why they haven't let us in."

"What did they do, Harry?" Draco's slightly growling voice asked, his hands tightening around Harry, who shrugged a bit, his feathers ruffling.

"I kind of overreacted when they wanted to harvest my blood again," Harry replied quietly, his fingers brushing against a faint bruise on his arm where the blood must have been taken.

"And they beat you up because of that?" Hermione's upper lip curled and her brown eyes sparkled with fury. "I'll have a word with them! They have _no_ right -"

"Please, Hermione... " Harry's soft voice stopped her. It held no contempt, no anger, just resigned hopelessness. Draco hated it. "I attacked them first. It does no good, you know it too. "

"But Harry -"

Harry shook his head, a sad look on his pale face. "It'll just waste your time. You know how they are when dealing with me. I mean, they nearly put me to sleep because of this in the beginning... "

Hermione's eyes filled with tears of sorrow, pity and anger as she recalled the time when they had been fighting for the life of her best friend. It had taken the best solicitor, the Malfoys' solicitor to be exact, to give Harry a permission to live by the Ministry. They had been through hard times, and it wasn't that easier now, when Harry was locked up like a rapid wild beast. "Okay, if you're sure, Harry... "

Harry's small smile bared the sharp teeth. "Thank you, 'Mione."

"How have you been, Harry, otherwise than... this?" Ron gestured wildly with his left hand, peering upwards at his winged friend as he was the one sitting cross-legged on the floor.

"The same, I suppose," Harry replied with a nonchalant motion with his shoulder. "Better than in the start, though, I might say."

Yes, definitely better than in the beginning. Back then, Harry was in such a bad condition it was extremely difficult for him to form even three-worded sentences. The lack of human company, as he had been almost completely isolated (_to his and everybody else's protection, _had the Ministry idiotically claimed), had made him nearly forget himself in the middle of the chaos and darkness.

"I only remember flashes, you know that already. When you're not here, it feels like a dream. A nightmare. Like... I'm not in control." Harry's wings slumped along with his shoulders and he leaned back to get comfort from Draco like a dog would do with its owner when frightened.

"Don't worry, I'm here now," murmured the blonde into his ear, his breath swaying the strands of hair. "And some day, some day we'll get you out of here."

Harry didn't look like he believed him, but purred nevertheless against his chest, a happy, content smile spreading over his face when Draco ran his fingers through Harry's hair. Sometimes, it seemed that it was only the touch of Draco that kept Harry sane during his lonely weeks in the pitiful cage. When Draco was able to touch his mate, Harry calmed down even from his deeply agitated state. A fact the Ministry was busily ignoring.

Soon enough, Harry had received enough soothing from the blond and he glanced towards Ron and Hermione, curiosity and longing in his eyes. "So, how are things... at home? How is everybody doing?"

"Everything is fine," Hermione said easily, aware that Harry needed to know how the rest of his "pack" was doing. "Remus is working on Grimmauld Place, it's soon ready to be the new headquarters for Aurors. He sends his love, as always."

Because Remus, Harry's godfather after Sirius' horrific death, was a known werewolf, he was strictly forbidden to come and see Harry, which agitated both the older man and Harry profoundly. Harry may have been of age already, but he still yearned to see the only father figure he had left.

"Dad got promoted at work," Ron grinned, a hint of pride in his voice. "He has now his own team at the department. Also, Charlie got the job as the professor at Magical Creatures at Hogwarts, did I tell you? Oh, and the twins opened their _third_ store - you should hear their bragging: all day long how they're going to be world-wide famous and all."

"That's great, Ron." Harry's smile was genuine. "Your family really deserves the best. How's Bill, still instructor at the Auror training?"

"Yup. Ginny was his first student, actually."

Harry's whole countenance was content and slack as he listened the tales with avid attention, and no-one told him that Remus had been to hospital a short while ago after he got attacked by the Death Eaters still roaming around or how Bill had almost blown himself up trying some new curses. Harry was not that good at coping with bad news.

"And how's everything at our house, Draco?" Harry asked, getting a nearly dreamy expression in his eyes. He and Draco's house was a luxurious country house, surrounded by lush meadows, lavish forests and a sparkling lake. It was a place both of them loved and it was filled with good memories.

"Fine, sweetheart, it's fine." Draco caressed Harry's fluid wings carefully. "I just got the fence surrounding the northern meadow fixed. It would be so much better if you were there, though. It feels so empty when I'm by myself in that big house."

"I know," Harry murmured sorrowfully. His wings drooped a little again, mirroring his feelings. "I wish I could be there, too. When things go bad here... I try to think of an early morning at our house, watching the sun rise, the splashing of the lake reaching our ears... "

Draco couldn't find any words. He just held Harry tighter, burying his head into Harry's wild hair. It was always emotionally draining and frustrating to visit the Ministry, to witness once again how Harry's life had so radically changed. The sheer unfairness of it made Draco want to scream. But since the other option would be to leave Harry completely on his own, leave him to be consumed by the dark being he was sharing a body with – there was no other way.

"Do those hurt, Harry?" came Hermione's shy voice after a minute. The pair of young men looked up and saw Hermione observing Harry's damage with a worried frown on her face. Harry glanced down at his torso, licking his split lip.

"Not that much," he quietly replied, sweeping his hand cautiously over the bruises. "I heal fast."

Hermione obviously wasn't satisfied, but gave the offensive injuries one more glare, fiddling her empty pockets before letting out a huff. "I wish I had my wand with me. Damn the security!"

Harry gave a crooked grin, looking half amused, half sad. "You think they'd let you with your wands here? Here, into the cage of a Valerius?" A snort of laugh followed that. "They'd be too afraid I'd steal one of your wands and somehow, despite the wards preventing any magic performed by magical beings, manage to escape."

Ron shook his head. "Mental, they are."

"Haven't we already noticed that," muttered Draco with distaste, pursing his lips. "Bunch of bigoted hypocrites, the lot of them."

As on cue, the door to the room opened and the familiar guard with dark blue robes entered. "Alright people, the hour's up."

Knowing from previous experiences that begging for more time didn't help, Draco squeezed Harry one more time tightly and gave him a quick kiss. "Love you sweetie. Be brave."

"Love you too, angel," Harry murmured, reluctantly releasing his hold of the blonde. There was uncontrollable sadness, but also bright fear in his eyes. Being alone was what Harry hated and feared the most – alone, his memories of being Harry the human faded until they were nothing more than washed-out images. Hermione and Ron swooped him down into a last hug. "We'll come again, as soon as possible."

With the usual, grievous goodbyes, the hardest part of the visit, the guard gripping tightly to his wand ushered them out of the cage and clammed the cage door back closed as quickly as he humanly could. Harry dutifully remained where he was, staring after them with a lost expression. Draco blew him a kiss to which Harry smiled faintly, but they could see Harry's gaze glaze over as they walked away from the dreaded cage. At the door, his eyes had darkened and he was already snarling slightly, the intimidating wings spread taut and wide as he took the aggressive pose again, seeing nothing else than the threat of the guard once more.

_An hour isn't enough. It never is._

After the exhausting visit, Draco kindly declined Ron and Hermione's invitation to join them for coffee and set off to home, morose and glum as usual. There was no way in hell he could stay cheery and merry after witnessing the outcome of one of the most unjust and cruel decisions the Ministry had made in a decade. He Apparated to the grounds, letting the warm sunshine and the calming twitter of the birds wash over him like a healing blanket. With a deep sigh, he started the short trek along the winding cart road sided with meadows filled with beautiful, heavenly scented flowers and the occasional ash trees. The three-storey house, made of reddish, dark wood came shortly after into view. The pure white frames around the large windows were shining as if they were sparkling snow. It wasn't a palace or a manor, but it wasn't a plain, run-down hovel like the Burrow (Draco had seen quite a few times; as Harry's boyfriend, he had been invited to plenty of dinners and parties that had been held in the Weasley Residence) It was one of the kind, with vines climbing up the walls and window boxes with plush flowers and plants that covered almost half of the outer walls and white French doors Draco has specifically requested.

All in all, it was a home.

Draco stepped through the protective wards into the front yard covered in lilies, narcissus and sunflowers. A pond with a small fountain of a dragon and a phoenix made of marble was bubbling softly in the circle of said flowers. Sturdy oaks and elms were standing nearby, their leaves ruffling in the gentle breeze. A bright sparkle of the forest-surrounded lake could be seen just behind the house.

Climbing the few steps onto the large porch Draco inhaled the soothing scent of the flowers planted there, into small, ceramic flowerpots. Harry had planted them himself, before everything bad had happened. Standing there, in peace and quiet, Draco was very glad that there were no other people near. The whole place was Unplottable, of course, Muggles couldn't see it and there were very few houses in the neighbourhood. In fact, the nearest house was Hermione and Ron's, a couple of miles to the south.

Draco flicked the door open and went through to the cool hall with light panels and drawers dropped next to walls. He hanged his cloak on the coat rack and made his way slowly across the large room to the parlour, passing the wide staircase leading up, and flopped tiredly down into one of the armchairs. The parlour was decorated with good taste. Its walls were a mix of calming blue and beige, baby-blue chiffon curtains on the huge window letting the light flow into the room freely. Comfy sofas and armchairs were arranged in front of the spacious shelf holding the newest kind of Muggle technology, courtesy of Harry's Muggle upbringing; a plasma-television, DVD-player and stereos, and some artefacts such as Hogwarts graduating diplomas in frames. Between the sofa and armchairs was a low glass table, some haphazardly abandoned Wizarding magazines, newspapers, old mugs and a plate with something that remotely resembled a sandwich on top of it

These days, Draco didn't have that much energy to clean up after himself.

A massive fireplace held court in one of the corners. A jar of Floo powder was sitting on the mantel piece, as was a vase with a lone sunflower, charmed not to wither. On the empty space on the wall was a collection of moving Wizarding photos. Draco got up and walked to the pictures, feeling idle and lethargic. His fingers brushed against the frames.

One was of Harry's parents, next to Draco's. James and Lily Potter looked happy and radiant, as if they had no idea of the death warranties hanging over their heads at the time the picture had been taken. Lucius and Narcissa were more restrained and guarded, as it would be unfitting for a Malfoy to be anything else, but Draco imagined he detected a proud glint in his father's eyes and a small smile twisting Narcissa's lips now and then. Sirius Black and Remus Lupin alongside with James Potter were grinning in one the photos, arms casually slung over each other's shoulders. Words _'Prongs, Padfoot and Moony_' were carved into the frame, the handwriting made by Harry's wand a little sloppy and curvy. Harry had explained the meaning of the words to him once. He had explained the broken friendship, the everlasting connection the three wizards would always have.

Then there was a picture of Draco with his Slytherin gang of Blaise and Pansy, and of Harry in his own gang of Gryffindors, as memories from their more carefree school days. A few were showing the four unexpected friends, Draco, Harry, Ron and Hermione. It had been a great shock to the school, yes, when Harry and Draco had bluntly announced they were together in their seventh year. No-one had expected the rage and petty hatred to change into roaming passion and, finally, to tender love. The press, naturally, had had a field day once they found out that Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived was seeing Draco Malfoy, the son of a Death Eater. The writer of the most scathing articles, Rita Skeeter, somehow mysteriously disappeared after having written that the boys were together only because Draco was only after Harry's money.

What Draco loved the most, however, was the biggest photo of him and Harry. It was from the time everything was still well and good, from the time they had just bought the house. The two of them were sitting on a bench at the shore of the lake, leaning into each other with the comfortableness only few could achieve. Draco was cupping Harry's face as they were sharing an affectionate kiss in the shadowed light of the sunset. It was a beautiful snap of a beautiful moment never forgotten.

Draco let out a tired sigh, turning away from the photos he could stare at for hours, lost in his own thoughts. Dwelling in the past did no good, he knew it. It was just hard to accept the truth sometimes. Every day, Draco still expected to hear Harry's footsteps from the porch and then he'd see him coming in with that bright smile of his that could chase every shadow away from Draco's nightmares. Seconds after, however, Draco always remembered that Harry would not walk through the front door anymore and he would clench his fingers around his wand, resisting the urge to tear the whole house down.

Footsteps echoed in the empty, soundless house as the blonde trudged to the large kitchen, equipped with all sort of fancy stuff Harry had insisted they'd buy, but still managing to look cosy. Harry had liked to cook the Muggle way: it calmed his nerves, he had said. Trying to shake his head free from thoughts of Harry, Draco opened the fridge and picked a bottle of soda. He reached for a glass from one of the cupboards, his gaze shifting involuntarily towards the shelf in which Harry kept his small notebooks filled with recipes of delicious meals. Most of them had come from Molly Weasley, but some of them Harry had invented himself, always uninhibitedly venturing with exotic ingredients, producing unusual dishes from rye pudding to rutabaga casserole. Draco hurried to grab the glass and turned to the shiny counter made of the finest of marble, filling the glass with the blissfully cool liquid.

His thirst satisfied, Draco slowly walked out of the kitchen smelling of spices and fresh fruits and vegetables, and ascended the beautifully carved stairs upstairs, wandering into the spacious bedroom. It was a snug room, the walls painted light green and dark red, representing their former Houses of Hogwarts. A wide bed with pale blue covers rested beside a great window, right next to the glass door leading to the balcony. A desk covered in parchments and quills was put next to a narrow bookshelf holding just a few books - most of their books were in the library on the third floor. More photos were hanging on the wall, artfully framed, alongside with a colourful painting of Hogwarts.

It had been done by Dean Thomas, a Gryffindor who had died at an unnamed Death Eater's hand at the end of their seventh year at school. Draco hadn't really known him, he had been more of a Harry's friend because of his House, but he had agreed to put the painting up as a tribute to the fallen boy. It was a pretty painting, after all, with plenty of amazing details and a hopeful atmosphere with its bright colours. Draco could almost sense the calming effect Hogwarts always gave him just by looking at the painting, seeing how the light shimmered in the castle's numerous windows, seeing the vast grass field with small people scattered all over on the hot summer day, the peaceful lake by the castle, a few ripples on the otherwise immobile surface. Draco brushed his fingers against the painting, and moved on.

A door lead to a bathroom, another to a very large closet for clothes. Some ornaments were placed onto a shelf, including the snitch Harry had caught in his first game and the small, silver statue of a fierce dragon with green jewels as eyes that Harry had given to Draco on his 18th birthday. A stuffed toy animal in the form of a roaring lion, its fur made of Cashmere with golden threads and deep red rubies as eyes, sat on top of a drawer next to the bed. It had been a gift from Draco to Harry on his 18th birthday. Meaningless trinkets for some, but irreplaceable items for Draco and Harry.

Draco fell on the bed, blankly staring at the white ceiling. He found himself, despite his efforts, thinking back to the time the peace in his life had shattered.


	2. Shattered Dreams

_**Give Me Wings to Fly With**_

_**Summary**_: Having Harry Potter locked up as a dangerous beast, the Ministry shows no signs of gratitude for the Defeater of Voldemort. Until there is a new threat to be considered...

_**Warnings**_: Violence (perhaps even some gore), cursing, established relationship (HPDM), Character Death

_**Disclaimer**_: Not mine but Rowling's.

Beta's by the talented and inhumanely quick purplerawr.

Thanks for the reviews!

* * *

**Chapter II – Shattered Dreams**

_Beings of Magic: Volume III, Dark and Beautiful (ch. 14 p. 601) Valerius follow the example set by its distant cousins, Veela, by requiring a life-long partner, a so-called 'mate'. They are not completely dependant on their mates like Veela, but they still are more content and in control of their powers when united with their mate. The biggest difference with the Veela and Valerius' mating habits is that an adult Valerius does not feel a sudden pull towards its usually previously unknown mate, who can be either another Valerius, a Wizard or a Muggle. Instead, the bond between the Valerius and its intended builds up slowly and gradually, which is why the mate is most commonly someone the Valerius has known before. _

_Valerius can feel deep attachment and even real, human-like love, and that makes the bond more affectionate and stronger than the usual bond between a magical being and its mate. Valerius are fiercely protective of their mate and are ready to do anything in their power to defend their loved one. The death of a mate is such a great shock to the solid bond that the Valerius usually dies itself soon after._

_Draco fell on the bed, blankly staring at the white ceiling. He found himself, despite his efforts, thinking back to the time the peace in his life had shattered._

It had been a beautiful day full of sunshine and warmth, nothing hinting towards the grim end that would ensue. It was just a year after they had graduated from Hogwarts. Harry was in Auror training, learning the skills to finally defeat Voldemort who was slowly but surely gathering power around the Great Britain, Draco helping Harry as much as he could while studying as Snape's apprentice, quickly on his way to become one of the best Potions Masters in Britain. The murky shadows of his gloomy past, of his father who finally died in Azkaban, were clearing as he was known more and more because of his skills and, of course, being Harry Potter's partner. Not as a part of a dark family and a junior Death Eater in training.

Everything was looking good. With Harry as their young but inspirational leader, the Order won crucial battles against the Death Eaters and people were beginning to have hope again. Harry and Draco were engaged, the blonde having asked him at the end of their final year. That day in particular held a special place in Draco's heart; the happiest day of his youth – it was the day when Draco came to realize that he really _did_ deserve happiness and Harry's love. It was the day the war didn't matter.

_flashback – the evening before graduation_

"_Do I really have to wear these? I mean, _really_?" _

_Draco looked up, quirking an eyebrow. Harry was staring at him pleadingly, a frustrated grimace on his face as he clutched his recently purchased formal dress robes. "Would you rather wear jeans and a jumper at your graduation, Harry?"_

_When Harry blinked, obviously thinking that sounded very good, actually, Draco grimaced himself and rose from his chair. "Harry, darling," he said, gently prying the robes away from Harry's hands to avoid the fabric from being wrinkled. "You look amazing in your dress robes. In fact, you look amazing in everything you wear."_

_Harry seemed to be dangerously close to pout. "If so, why can't I just wear something else, then?"_

Patience, Merlin, patience_, Draco chided himself and took a deep sigh. "Because it's graduation. Graduation requires formal wear. It's traditional and good use of common sense, Harry."_

_Wrinkling his nose in distaste, Harry glanced at the robes, now safely resting on a table nearby and out of reach from his very skillful fire curses. Just to be sure, Draco flicked his wand and made the robes non-flammable. _You never know when dealing with Harry.

"_Harry." Draco gripped Harry's plain school robes, hauling him flush against his body. He snaked one hand behind Harry's neck and brought their heads together, their noses brushing. "Believe me when I say you look absolutely beautiful in those dress robes," he whispered, enjoying the way Harry shivered at the proximity. "So beautiful, in fact, that I'm sure I must fend off half of the school population trying to get into your pants."_

_Harry twitched a smile and wrapped his hands around Draco's waist. "Just half?"_

"_The other half will faint the instance you walk into the Great Hall."_

_Now Harry grinned, laughing. His green eyes shone with joy as he leaned closer to Draco to peck him on the lips, hands tightening around Draco's middle torso. "Fine. I'll wear the damn dress robes and won't try to destroy them as soon as you turn your back."_

_Draco cupped Harry's face and gave him a wet kiss, sweet and teasing. "Thank you, Harry. Now, let us go to have dinner, shall we? Before Granger comes in here and drags us down to eat, nagging all the way about proper nourishment."_

_They gathered their books and parchments and left the library, walking the short trek to the Great Hall for their final dinner in the Great Hall. A bittersweet moment; the evening before leaving the safe heaven of a school to embark the rest of their lives. The threshold to adulthood. _

"_Finally," Hermione scoffed at them as they sat down opposite her and Ron at the Gryffindor table. "I thought you would skip dinner tonight, too."_

"_Well," Draco drawled with a waggle of his eyebrows and licked his lips. "There _would_ have been some other things I would have found absolutely delicious, yes, but we decided to join you for real dinner nevertheless."_

"_Oi, Malfoy, _must_ you?" Ron huffed, pulling a face while amused giggles broke out throughout the table._

_Harry swatted Draco playfully. "Stop giving Ron nightmares, you prat."_

_The blonde just gave him an open-mouthed kiss, smirking. Then he checked the time, feeling a tingle of anticipation shocking his whole body. _Anytime now..._ As on cue, a sudden flapping of wings caught everybody's attention and conversations halted as the students and professors alike looked up, baffled. A miniature dragon, the size of a cat, was gliding above the students searchingly, its glittering scales a mix of brilliant red and gold. It carried a small box in its small claws, safely tucked away as it gave a tinny roar, head turning from one side to another. Some first years let out shrill screams at the sight, but most of the students merely looked on with wonder and bewilderment. _

"_It's beautiful," Draco heard Hermione murmur quietly. "But who is it looking for?"_

_The answer came in a few seconds as the dragon let out a triumphant squawk, its eyes ablaze, as it located its target. Several younger Gryffindors ducked when the dragon sailed towards the Gryffindor table and finally landed on a very befuddled Harry's shoulder. It gathered its wings against its scaly body as it carefully balanced on its fleshy landing place, clawed feet curling into the fabric of Harry's robes. Harry had his head turned and he stared wide-eyed at the dragon who cocked its own head and rubbed its ruby red snout against Harry's cheek with a rumbling purr. _

"_What the... " Harry lightly touched the dragon in what looked like amazement, his fingers barely brushing against the scales. Draco felt almost like laughing at the look of pure astonishment on Harry's face as the small dragon nibbled the Gryffindor's nose, but his insides clenched in apprehension at the same time. A tiny flock of butterflies took flight in his belly._

"_I think the package is for you, Harry." Ron, owlishly blinking, pointed at the fist-sized box still clutched in the dragon's talons. Harry frowned and hesitatingly reached for the box. For a moment, it seemed that he was afraid the dragon would attack, but the winged reptile merely croaked, a soft and welcoming sound, and offered the box itself. As Harry began to pry the box open, the whole school waiting with baited breath, Draco squeezed his hands into fists, swallowing._

_There was a metallic clink as something small and hard fell on the wooden table from the box, narrowly missing Harry's goblet of pumpkin juice. Without looking, Draco knew with perfect clarity what had caused the 'clink' – two identical bracelets of solid silver with entwined snakes and lilies engraved on the shiny surface, going around the whole length of the bracelets. Snake was the symbol for the family of Malfoys whereas the Potter crest had several lily-like flowers on the background. Harry picked the wristbands up, rather cautiously, staring at them with a confused frown on his face. They glinted at him innocently, resting on his palm. _

_Draco had counted on Hermione to catch on first. "Harry!" she breathed, her brown eyes as wide as they could possibly be without popping out. "Harry, do you know what those are?"_

"_Uh... Bracelets?" Harry valiantly tried, peering at the wristbands on his hand with curious eyes._

"_They're... they're not just bracelets, Harry." Ron's voice was a tad higher than normally. "They're bonding bracelets!"_

_A collective gasp ran out from everybody near enough and whispers suddenly spread like fire feasting on dry wood. Harry still looked confused. "What?"_

"_It's an ancient Wizarding tradition, Harry," Hermione said breathlessly. "A wizard gives one to his beloved, to his betrothed, as an invitation to spend two lives together to eternity. The Wizarding equivalent for engagement rings."_

_Harry sucked in a sudden breath and startled eyes rose to meet Draco's waiting ones. "Draco?" he shakily asked, fingers closing around the bracelets like he was afraid they would fly away unless he squeezed them tightly. Draco caressed Harry's cheek lightly, looking deep into the brilliant green. _

"_Harry James Potter," he softly intoned. The other students faded into nothingness, everything around them flickered out of view until there was nothing else left than Harry. "I, Draconis Lucius Malfoy, ask for the union of the house of Potter and the house of Malfoy. I promise I will do my best to keep our bond joyful, amorous and valuable, and to cherish and respect you until the day I shall perish." He lowered his voice into whisper, willing it not to break, and offered his hand. "I love you Harry, will you be my bonded?"_

_There was a small stunned silence, no-one daring to speak – Draco's blood thundered in his ears as Harry swallowed. He didn't look anywhere else but at Harry's face, but then he felt a cool presence of silver on his skin as his bracelet magically fitted itself around his wrist. "I will," Harry whispered hoarsely. "I will be your bonded, Draconis Lucius Malfoy." _

_As if some dam had broken, a deafening cheering reached Draco's hearing and he swept Harry into a passionate kiss that left them both gasping for breath. Harry flung his arms around Draco's neck and they were locked in a fierce embrace, completely oblivious to the uproar around them. "I love you, Draco," Harry murmured against his ear and Draco felt pure happiness bubbling inside him. The Gryffindor nuzzled his neck and the dragon still hanging on on Harry's shoulder squeaked, flapping its wings to regain its precious balance. "I love you so much."_

_end of flashback_

However, everything came crashing down after the day Harry went after Voldemort himself, not telling anyone. No-one was completely sure what had actually happened at the house of Riddle that day. It was known, nevertheless, that Harry had showed up. A small battle had erupted between the two foes, a furious fight that had destroyed the house around them. Curses, meant to kill and maim, had been flying back and forth, neither of them ready to give up. It had been a bloody battle to the death.

Somehow, Harry had succeeded in striking the fatal blow. The cost, however, was high to pay. In his death thrones, the Dark Lord, with nothing to lose anymore, had released an ancient curse, the darkest of the darkest – the fourth Unforgivable, some would claim. It destroyed his own body, leaving nothing else than ash behind. Something worse, however, had happened to Harry, who had been in too much pain to successfully duck the incoming curse.

The curse, in its own way, killed Harry Potter. The one rising from the crumbled remains of the Riddle Manor was not the Harry Potter everyone knew. The curse had changed him drastically – very few had know such curse even existed. But in Harry's place, in his battle-worn boots, stood a dark magical being known as Valerius. Valerius were extremely rare, extremely dangerous and equally deathly creatures. Draco had turned every library available upside down in his search for information about the Valerius, and what he had learned, left him feeling cold and in pain. Without their mates or pack of closest, most trusted people, they were on constant warpath. Dark forces had used them as killing machines in the past, and they were widely respected and feared throughout the Wizarding world among those who knew of their existence – not that Valerius had been sighted for ages. Draco had been among the first to arrive at the demolished Manor, and he knew he could never forget the sight that had met him there.

_flashback – minutes after the Ministry and the Order received word that Voldemort had been killed_

_It was cold, the chilly wind whipping the crusted leaves around on the ground. Smoke was flowing everywhere like eery fog , accompanied by the bitter smell of burning. Chunks of wood and stone stood were scattered on the blackened grass, the only pieces left from the once grand manor. Some small fires were still flaring, casting murky orange light over the scene. _

_Draco stumbled over something faintly resembling a fireplace and he glanced frantically around. He spotted a small group of Auror hovering nearby, looking nearly as baffled and timid as he felt, and he raced over to them, for once throwing away his cool and collected façade. His heart was thumping painfully in his chest._

"_What happened here?" he wheezed, trying to control his breathing. _Please, _he prayed_, please tell me this has nothing to do with Harry.

"_Mr. Malfoy," one of the Aurors said, sounding rather uncertain and cautious. "Maybe you should go back, we can handle -"_

"_No," Draco snapped, pulling into his full height as he glared at the Auror. Ministry officials popped into the scene, looking around with large eyes and bewildered expressions. Draco paid no attention to them."I – Harry isn't home. Is he here?" _Is he dead,_ was left unasked. _

_The Aurors glanced at each other quickly. "Mr. Malfoy, it seems that the Dark Lord was killed here half an hour ago."_

_Breath caught in Draco's throat. "What?" he rasped hoarsely._

"_The Dark Lord is said to be dead," the Auror repeated patiently. "It is not certain, yet, but we are working on that."_

_Draco blinked. The Dark Lord – dead? Really _dead_? But before a joyful feeling could even start gathering inside him, he drew in a scared breath. "And – and Harry?"_

_The Auror looked suddenly apologetic and Draco felt panicked. "I'm sorry, Mr. Malfoy, it seems that Mr. Potter was the one who killed the Dark Lord, but we haven't managed to find him for now."_

_Before Draco could utter a horrified reply, there was a low grumble somewhere near. Everyone present startled and turned around. A pile of debris was moving as if it had a mind of its own, shards of stone hitting the ground. _

"_What in the name of Merlin," an Auror breathed to no-one in particular as everyone stared at the shadowy figure breaking free from the rubble, pieces of wood and glass flying everywhere. It was a figure of a slim man with shredded robes and - a Gryffindor jumper? Draco's eyes widened and he sucked in a startled breath._

_The man slowly turned to face them at the sound of Draco's breath. In a way, it was Harry, but then again... _

_Something held Draco back in his desire to rush to his boyfriend. Something that had changed his Harry almost beyond recognition. Harry was staring at them, his unnaturally bright, _black_ eyes glowing virtually in a predatory way, the rest of his face in the shadows. An air of raw power surrounded him, rippling._

_A moment of silence ascended. Then someone shifted, causing a brick of stone to click loudly against another and the atmosphere was roughly broken. The creature looking like Harry let out a sudden hiss, starling everyone, and his mouth opened to reveal a glinting set of sharp canines. As people drew back, a horrifying, ripping sound echoed across the grim Riddle land and suddenly, there was rapid movement around Harry's form. It took a few seconds for Draco to realize there were actually _wings_ sprouting from Harry's upper back. Sleek, midnight black wings with shining, silky-looking feathers. The wings flapped in the cool air aggressively. _

_Draco's mind was reeling and he felt out of breath - was this some kind of freakish nightmare?_

"_A Valerius," whispered one of the Ministry official suddenly and a loud buzz erupted from the others. Draco frowned - Valerius? What the bleeding _hell_ was going on? He was very close of pinching himself._

_Harry snarled at them, seemingly disgruntled about the hum of frantic whispering. He took several stalking steps towards the group of people, his wings spreading around him. His eyes were overtaken by wilderness and the crowd almost broke into chaos. Not really thinking, Draco stepped forward, away from the other people despite their protests. To his own, and everyone else's, amazement, Harry halted. His eyes were directed straight towards the blonde now and he inhaled deeply. Draco held his breath, looking at the creature that had once been Harry._

"_Harry?" he whispered tentatively, searching the frighteningly dark eyes. Harry cocked his head before he blinked, the wild look fading a bit. That was enough for Draco to lunge forward, ignoring the crowd's shouts, and wrap his arms around the winged young man. And instead of ripping the blonde apart, Harry let out a soft purring sound, thin arms sneaking around Draco's waist._

"_Harry," murmured Draco, hot tears prickling his eyes. He squeezed the other man tightly, not even seeing the wings anymore. "You're alive. You're alive. I was so scared... "_

"_D-Draco?" came the croaking sound, with a hint of sudden uncertainty. "What's... hap- happening? I can't -I can't -"_

"_Shh, sweetie, it's okay, everything's okay... "_

"_Is – is Voldemort... "_

"_He's dead, baby. You did it, you saved us all, Harry."_

"_It h-hurts," whimpered Harry, and there were specks of green in the black of his eyes. "It hurts, D-Draco... "_

"_I'm here now," Draco soothed, swallowing with difficulty. "It's okay."_

_The words had barely left his mouth when several jets of red light hit the quivering body in Draco's embrace. Harry jolted violently before falling dangerously limp, slipping to the ground from Draco's slackened grip. The blonde whipped around, staring at the Ministry officials with their wands drawn and pointed towards the unmoving Harry._

"_What the hell did you do that for?" Draco shouted, enraged. _

"_Mr. Malfoy," said one of the official coolly. "That is a Valerius. It was for your own protection."_

"_Protection? He wasn't threatening me, at all!" the blonde cried in exasperation. "He was _cuddling_ me, for Merlin's sake, you fools!"_

"_Nevertheless," the official stated. "It was only a matter of time when he would have turned against us and killed us all."_

"_What?" exclaimed Draco. "That's ridiculous!"_

"_Mr. Malfoy," the official said in a clipped tones. "Why don't you go home and check everything you know about Valerius and let us do our work?"_

"_Your work?" Draco hands clenched. "What do you mean by your work? What are you going to do?"_

"_According to the law about magical beings, article seven," the official crisply cited, "'Any form of dark beings, including Dark Veela, Blood Vampires, Valerius etc., must be taken to captivity in order to protect the people and held in isolation, or, if the case it demands, put to sleep."_

_Draco could only gape. "That's ... that's -"_

"_The law, Mr. Malfoy," told the official matter-of-factly. "It's the law."_

"_But -he's Harry sodding Potter!" Draco was shocked to the core. "He just killed the Dark Lord! He saved your sorry asses!"_

_The official treated him with a cool glance. "The law must be obeyed, even by the heroes, Mr. Malfoy."_

"_Step away, Mr. Malfoy," ordered the other official while the Aurors stood nearby, staring at the scene in complete daze. "Step away or we will take you into custody, as well."_

_Draco sputtered. "You -"_

"_Mr. Malfoy," whispered one of the Aurors into his ear, a restraining hand on his arm. The Auror looked eerily familiar, he had probably worked with Harry sometimes. "It won't do anything good if you resist this. They'll send you to Azkaban if you're not careful. Stand back, or you can't help Harry later on. Please."_

_Draco glanced at the hard-faced officials, who were a mixture of Aurors and Ministry guards and Law-Wizards by trade. They had the full authority to throw him into a cell, one couldn't deny it. And what good would he do for Harry if he were rotting in prison? Reluctantly, the blonde moved away from Harry, glaring hard at the officials who swarmed around Harry's slumped body. In seconds, the winged young man was bound and put a bracelet around his wrist to prevent the flow of his natural magic. His bond bracelet was unceremoniously thrown away like a piece of junk, clinking against the small pebbles on the ground. In seething anger and growing feeling of despair, Draco was forced to watch as the officials grabbed his fiancé and whisked him away with a Portkey. _

_end of flashback_

Draco shook his head to clear his troubled mind and gave a long-suffering sigh. He could continue hating the bigoted and narrow-minded Ministry with passion for the rest of his life, but it wouldn't help anyone. Not Harry, not Draco, not anyone. It was the way Ministry had acted for centuries, straight from the beginning, and it would not give up its ancient ways, not even for a hero like Harry Potter. They had tried, oh how they had tried. They had threatened, they had tried to bribe and negotiate, they had even sued the Ministry at the help of the best willing lawyers – the Ministry hadn't budged.. They had, however, managed to acquire the right to at least see Harry once a week.

Not all occupants of the lowest floor of the Ministry had that kind of luck. Most of them were unfortunate wizards and witches the Ministry deemed 'dangerous and not fit to normal interaction with people', either loners without no-one who cared about them or too poor and weak to struggle against the Ministry's hold. Draco was certain half of them were just misguided or ill human beings – and shuddered as he realized he sounded like Hagrid.

A loud hum suddenly echoed in the house, causing Draco to be pulled out from his morbid thoughts. Someone was attempting to reach him via his fireplace. _Damn, who dares to interrupt my brooding?_ Scowling, he rose to his feet and reluctantly trudged downstairs. Sparkling green flames were blazing in the hearth of the sitting room's fireplace.

"Took you long enough," came a dry voice from amidst the fire, and Draco glared at the lightly sneering face of Severus. "I thought you were not home. May I come through?"

Draco flopped down onto the nearest sofa, waving a dismissive hand at the older man. "Well, if you must."

There was a soft _woosh_ and Severus swiftly stepped through the fireplace. With an impassive face, Draco watched as the man prudently brushed away the ashes from his black cloak. "What do you want?"

Dark eyes glittered beneath raised eyebrows. "Well, aren't you in a good mood. I am glad to feel so warmly welcomed in your house."

Draco gave a tired, resigned sigh, dropping his hand into his hands. "I'm sorry, Severus. I just don't feel up to be all cheery and merry."

"I do not remember you ever being 'all cheery and merry' in my lifetime. However, if you find yourself suffering from those nauseating traits, allow me to check you into St. Mungo's."

Despite his foul mood, Draco's lips twitched. He rose to his feet with a jaded smile and gestured towards the kitchen. "I'll make us some tea."

Severus inclined his head in agreement and smoothly followed the blonde into the kitchen like a dark shadow slithering across the floor. Glancing over his shoulder, Draco almost snorted. No wonder the first years had been scared to death by the sour professor.

In a few moments, Draco had placed two cups of steaming tea and a plate filled with delicious white chocolate biscuits to the table. There _was_ a house-elf (with a good salary and an own small room at the attic, of course) working in the house, but Draco had released the said elf to its annual holiday of two weeks a couple of days ago and besides, sometimes Draco liked to do things by himself. Just like Harry had done. It gave him something to concentrate on.

Seated across Draco, Severus regarded the younger man over the rim of his cup. His keen eyes had noticed every small habit of frustration and fatigue Draco had showed, from the nasty temper to the faded look in the usually bright eyes. "I take it you finally achieved a visit to see one Mr. Potter today?"

Draco's fingers momentarily clenched around the ceramic cup he was holding. His narrowing eyes were glued to the table."Yes, we did. They almost didn't let us, those bigoted cretins, but we convinced them otherwise."

Severus took a careful sip from his cup. "And how was Mr. Potter doing?"

"Horribly." Draco lifted his head to gaze out of the open window. A tuft of hair flew into his eyes and he swiped it away impatiently. "They had been mishandling him again. He wasn't that healthy."

Ireful venom was practically leaking from Draco's otherwise calm words. "He had bruises and cuts all over his body. His other wing looked like it had almost been ripped away. And they hadn't treated him, clearly, because he was all dishevelled and in pain when we arrived."

"I see." Severus' tone was sombre. "Did they give any reason for these insalubrious actions?"

"According to Harry, he had resisted when they had collected his blood," Draco murmured and gripped the spoon so hard in his hand it was a wonder the said spoon was still intact. "That's just sick, Severus, the way they harvest his blood like he's some kind of... some kind of endless supply of a rare ingredient for their freaking potions."

"Indeed it is," Severus agreed, his mouth pinched. "The Ministry has always been unscrupulous and intolerant towards differences, but I find this kind of behaviour disturbingly vexing. That incompetent fool of a Minister hasn't done a thing to even start correcting the Ministry's unjust iniquities." His eyes held a thoughtful look for a second. "However, I believe the rest of the Wizarding people has noticed this and Kingsley Shacklebolt will become the new Minister in the upcoming elections in a few months."

Draco sighed, not tasting the usually deliciously aromatic tea that burned his tongue. "I'll vote for Shacklebolt myself, that's for sure. He tried to vouch for Harry, you know, but the Minister didn't budge."

Severus gave a small nod. "Shacklebolt is a good man. I am confident that he has the courage and determination to investigate the whole Ministry to root out the corruption and unfairness."

"I hope he will banish the lower levels of the Ministry building, then," Draco said darkly.

"It would take time, but I'm confident that even Mr. Potter would be out and freed eventually."

Draco closed his eyes. He dared not to get his hopes up only to get them painfully crushed.


	3. A Tentative Thread of Hope

_**Give Me Wings to Fly With**_

_**Summary**_: Having Harry Potter locked up as a dangerous beast, the Ministry shows no signs of gratitude for the Defeater of Voldemort. Until there is a new threat to be considered...

_**Warnings**_: Violence (perhaps even some gore), cursing, established relationship (HPDM)

_**Disclaimer**_: Not mine but Rowling's.

**A/N: **Just to clear things up (the time line of this story is a bit shady) : Harry conquered Voldemort two and a half years after graduation. He's been what he now is about half a year. During this time, Hermione and the others have finished their further educations (e.g. the Auror training for Ron).

I just read a story that had Kingsley Shacklebolt as a really pain in the ass, an ignorant fool, so to sooth my mind, the Kingsley in my story is going to be awesome.

Once more, applauses to purplerawr, The Beta.

Thanks for the reviews!

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**Chapter III – A Tentative Thread of Hope Is Easily Crushed**

"_I want this moment to last forever."_

_Harry turned his head slightly and Draco got a glimpse of his profile, sharp and yet soft in the darkness, illuminated only by the gentle twinkle of stars above them. The shore of the lake by the school was an empty place in the middle of the night – a caressing breeze that rustled the common reed nearly swallowed by the dark water was their only company._

"_Nothing lasts forever," Harry replied, sadly and with a resigned twist of his lips. _

_They sat there, on a magically warmed patch of grass, shoulder to shoulder, side to side. Harry's hand was covered by Draco's as they leaned against each other for more warmth. _

"_I know." Draco stared at the lake. Waves splashed against the small stones and pebbles on the ground just a few feet away. _

_Harry wrapped his arm around Draco's waist, his head coming to rest on Draco's shoulder. "I have you, Draco, and you have me. For as long as it's meant to be."_

_Draco's fingers clenched into a fist. "You aren't going to die, Harry."_

_There was a small silence, Harry brushing his hand absent-mindedly against Draco's cloak-covered arm. "We're at war," he finally said with the weariness of an old man. "There are casualties in war, you know that. After Dean... after Dean was killed, everybody knew it. Anyone can be next."_

"_But not you," Draco whispered, eyes squeezed tightly shut, as if that would help hiding from the real world where everything was not good and full of sunshine. "Not you, Harry. Promise me you won't die."_

"_I can't promise that," Harry said softly, his voice barely audible. He grabbed Draco's hand and hold on to it, pressing it against his chest. Draco felt Harry's heartbeat faintly against his hand, thudding. "But I promise you that for as long as I'm alive, I'll be there for you, no matter what. Will you be there for me, too?"_

_Draco pulled Harry into a kiss that tasted of rain and salty lips. "Always, Harry, always."_

Draco stared up at the ceiling, the last wisps of the dream swirling around him. _He promised me he would be here for me._ _I promised him I would be there for him. And look at how the things are today. _He felt empty, carved up from the inside out. He vaguely remembered Harry once telling him that he should move on and not dwell on what had happened, fight against being swallowed by bitterness and hollowness.

_But how can I move on with this hole in my heart?_

Maybe it was the special bond they had, the bond between a magical being and its mate, but what they had had before had already been something Draco had never experienced. It felt like he wasn't complete, like there was something missing. Something that made it possible to feel joy and happiness.

Not feeling particularly awake or perky, Draco dragged himself out of the bed nevertheless. It was noon already, and he would feel even more jaded if he spent the whole day tucked beneath the covers. Throwing a morning robe haphazardly over his only boxers-covered body, he shuffled out from his bedroom, never even glancing at the mirror and went to the kitchen. He made himself a strong cup of tea and a cheese sandwich. He wasn't that hungry, but Harry always felt if he had lost weight and Draco couldn't bare the look Harry usually gave him if he suspected Draco wasn't taking care of himself.

_Oh the woes of being me._

Draco sighed and sat down to eat his breakfast, shuffling aside the dirty dishes from the dinner he had had last evening. Twinkly, their house elf – named in the memory of Albus Dumbledore, who had died protecting Hogwarts and its students when a swarm of Death Eaters had tried to invade it a couple of years ago – would most definitely kill him upon her return when she would see the mess he had made. The elf was a fearsome mix of Molly Weasley and Minerva McGonagall, stern but maternally fussy.

Idly wondering if he should go and visit the joke store the Weasley twins owned since Blaise, their co-inventor, was working there in his spare time, he was rudely interrupted in a flurry of feathers as an owl, a haughty looking eagle owl, flew through the perpetually open window and landed on the table in front of Draco. The owl puffed up disdainfully and clicked its beak, impatiently sticking out its leg with a letter tied to it. Frowning, Draco took the letter and the owl was off immediately, leaving as quickly as it had appeared.

Musing he really should learn to close the kitchen window when he went to bed, Draco glanced down at the heavy letter on his hand. He was hit with alarming dread as he recognized the pompous seal the Ministry used in its official letters – oh Merlin, something had happened to Harry, he knew it – something bad. A suffocating fist closed around Draco's heart and he couldn't breathe – letting the letter flop down to the table, Draco stared at it with eyes that saw nothing else but fear of losing Harry.

_flashback – nine months ago, during Harry's Auror training_

_The turquoise liquid in the cauldron bubbled, giving a small splash as Draco dropped in the final dragon tear. He gave the potion a critical once-over, checking the temperature and the texture before allowing the fire beneath the cauldron to cool down a bit. _Oh yes, this is coming along just perfectly._ Draco hummed in satisfaction at the yet another successful, experimental potion he had invented – this one was designed to -_

Clang.

_Draco startled, nearly knocking the whole cauldron down. He turned furious eyes towards the ceiling at the sound of the wards warning him – who dared to send him an owl right now, in the middle of potion making? Silently fuming, Draco cast a stasis spell over the cauldron to keep the potion unperturbed and headed for the stony staircase that lead up from his potions lab in the basement. Soon he blinked in the bright sunshine that flooded the kitchen and looked around impatiently. Sure enough, in the middle of the table sat an eagle owl that stared at Draco imperiously with its yellow eyes._

"_What is it?" Draco snapped, striding towards the owl. A letter was thrust into his hand and the owl took flight, flapping its great wings once and vanishing through the window. Draco scowled, glancing at the official-looking envelope before ripping it in half and pulling the letter out with a flourish. As he started to read the letter, the scowl on his face melted away and he paled, horrendous dismay shooting spikes through his nearly stopped heart. Without even finishing reading, Draco spun around, the letter fluttering to the floor, and ran to the fireplace. He grabbed a handful of powder from the small ceramic pot on the mantel piece and threw it over the half-burned firewood in the hearth. "St. Mungo's!" he shouted and was promptly swallowed by the green flames. _

_He came tumbling out from one of the visitor entrance's in the lobby, his usual Malfoy grace momentarily forgotten as he rushed towards the receptionist witch who kept looking at him oddly from behind her desk. "I'm here to see Harry," Draco wheezed, trying to get his erratic breathing back into control. "Harry Potter. I heard he had just been brought in?"_

_The receptionist glanced at something only she could see, eyes going up and down on some list she had. "Yes," she finally confirmed and nodded. "Mr. Potter arrived twenty minutes ago." She suddenly peered at Draco through narrowed eyes. "Are you a relative of Mr. Potter, Mr... ?"_

"_Draco Malfoy," Draco ground out from between clenched teeth and sneered as the witch visibly winced at his name. "I'm his fiancé, which, I believe, means I am family."_

"_But of course," she murmured, running a finger along the list. A man with a alarmingly swollen hand appeared behind Draco, a pained look on his face, and the witch's eyes swivelled to him. Draco coughed sharply and the receptionist jumped, quickly looking down again. "Yes, yes," she hurriedly said. "Floor 5, Mr. Malfoy. Mr. Potter is in room 11. There are some Healers present, so I don't know if they'll let you in -"_

_Draco didn't stay to listen; he set off briskly towards the nearest elevator and pushed the button with the number 5 printed on it. As the elevator twitched and began to ascend, Draco had to close his eyes. He didn't need to look down to see that his hands trembled ever so slightly._

Merlin, let him be alright. _A soft ping and the elevator doors slid apart. Draco opened his eyes, stepping out. _Just let him be alright.

_He quickly located the correct room and stood outside it for a short moment, collecting himself. Then, with a shaky breath, he pushed the door open and prepared for the worst. His eyes immediately landed on the bed in the middle of the room, not seeing anything else than the battered figure lying there like a broken doll. Harry's face was unnaturally pale, the lashes of his closed eyes creating dark shadows on his hollow cheeks. Blood matted his damp hair and there was a reddish smear on the corner of his mouth, trailing down his throat. Naked from the waist up, the partially healed gash across his stomach was in plain view and Draco tasted acid in his mouth._

"_Hey!" cried a voice, and Draco blinked, startled. He looked up at the appalled looking Healer that he hadn't seen before by the bed. "You can't be here, young man! This patient needs rest -"_

"_Let him be," came the deep, calming voice of Kingsley Shacklebolt, the Head Auror. He was standing in the corner, obviously trying to stay out of the way but also in perfect position to watch over his Auror student. Kingley's face had worry lines all over, yet he seemed to look rather peaceful at the moment which succeeded in calming Draco down a little. "Mr. Malfoy, this is Healer Quizzil. He's the main Healer assigned to Harry today. Healer Quizzil, this is Draco Malfoy, Harry's fiancé."_

"_What happened to him?" Draco asked, his voice resembling a rough croak, and he took a slow step closer. The Healer sniffed, but decided to ignore him in favour of turning back to Harry. "The letter only said that he had had a life-threatening accident during the training and that he had been rushed here. Is he going to be alright?"_

_Kingsley looked at Harry, his face remaining otherwise passive except the small ripple of concern. "He's in stable condition now, but it was touch-and-go in the beginning." He sat down heavily, still gazing at Harry. "We had a bit of a field training today. We went to raid a store in Knockturn Alley. The store was suspected to harbour dangerous dark artefacts, but nothing serious – it was supposed to be easy."_

"_But it wasn't?" Draco couldn't take his eyes off of Harry's gaunt face._

_Kingsley sighed with a shake of his head. "No, it wasn't. Somehow, the place was suddenly swarming with Death Eaters and we barely got out alive, unorganized and unprepared as we were. But as we retreated, a stray curse hit Weasley, Harry's partner, and he fell. Harry stayed behind and fended off the attacks against Weasley until they could Apparate. At the last minute, when he was preparing to Apparate himself and Weasley away, his shield cracked and a Gutting Curse got through." He gave a tiny shudder, almost invisible, and Draco's insides felt like they were made of lead. "It was a miracle he made it back in one piece, with Weasley in tow. As soon as he hit the Apparating place, he collapsed from blood loss and I brought him here immediately. Weasley is the next room, but he suffered only minor injuries and should be fine by tomorrow morning. Unless Harry had stayed to get him, he would have been dead by now for sure."_

_Draco gave a half-smile that had nothing to do with being happy. "Always the hero, isn't he."_

"_You could say that," Kingsley nodded solemnly. He got to his feet again, brushing non-existent dust away from his Auror robes. "I'll go check on Weasley now. You can stay here for the time being. Just stay out of the way and listen to the Healers."_

_The Healer looked up again, his lips pinched as if he wished to order Draco to leave, but the look Kingsley gave him made him just narrow his eyes and get back to work. Draco directed a grateful nod at the Head Auror – Kingsley had always been fair towards Draco, even with his somewhat dark history, and had even offered Draco a spot in the Auror training (which Draco had graciously declined), and he had earned Draco's respect._

_As Kingsley left the room, quiet as a ghost, Draco tiptoed closer to the bed, ignoring the scoffing Healer. Harry breathed unevenly, his chest rising and falling heavily. He seemed fearfully fragile in the magically induced coma Draco recognized, and Draco's hand twitched with yearning._

"_Can I... " Draco spared a glance at the strict Healer. "Can I hold his hand?"_

_Healer Quizzil's steel-like eyes looked at him sharply, but then the lines around his mouth softened a bit. "You may hold his hand," he eventually allowed._

_Harry's hand felt cold and limp in Draco's hand, and he squeezed it gently, willing it to come back to life. He was so focused on Harry he completely missed the look of grudgingly admitted approval shadowing across the Healer's face._

_Once Harry made full recovery a few days later, the Healer shook Draco's hand and thanked him for the support with a genuine smile._

_end flashback_

* * *

"How do you like your eggs?"

Hermione eyed the slightly smoking pan Ron wielded. "I would have normally said that I prefer them with sunny side up, but let's just have some scrambled eggs today, shall we? Better not demand too much of you. I actually value this kitchen, you know."

"Ha ha, Hermione. Very funny." Ron almost dropped the heavy pan as he cracked the first egg and Hermione winced, mentally saying her goodbyes to the shiny, unscratched tiles on the floor by the stove. "You've always made the breakfast, but today is my turn. Mind you, I _can_ cook. Without magic even!"

"Yes, Ron." She smiled patiently. Sunday mornings were sacred to them; they always had a peaceful, long breakfast together on Sundays (since both usually rose and left home early for work during week days – Ron headed towards the Auror Department and Hermione, as a Mediwitch and a counsellor, towards the orphanage for children who had lost their parents in the war) , and Ron had insisted he cooked the breakfast for once. Hermione thought it was very sweet of him, though she was just a little scared of the safety of her kitchen tools. "I'm very proud of you."

Ron just grinned, obviously missing the sarcasm, and Summoned the salt and pepper shakers with his wand. _Without magic, my arse_, Hermione thought with fondness and went to fetch the pitcher of iced orange juice from the fridge, her fingers momentarily brushing against a moving photo of Harry, happy and smiling – for once not trying to shy away from the picture – pinned on the fridge door with a scarlet-coloured magnet. She carried the pitcher back to the table and laid it down next to the basket full of freshly baked rolls.

"Here we go," Ron crowed with pleasure and triumph, dancing across the kitchen to show Hermione the scrambled eggs he had used almost an hour to cook. "Look, Hermione! It's perfect, isn't it?"

She looked at the half-burned mess that suspiciously resembled clay, and her lips twitched. With Ron hovering nervously over her, she finally flashed a smile at him, taking pity. "It looks good, Ron, it really does. Really, you've outdone yourself."

Ron's grin was bright and wide and he scraped some of the quietly sizzling lump to the waiting plaits on the table as they both sat down. "Harry was always the better cook out of the two of us, though."

Hermione smiled softly. "Yes. One could think he's part Mrs. Weasley."

Ron laughed, a short, amused sound that died quickly. She knew he had started to think Harry again, and the bitterness of the whole situation. Ron pursed his lips tightly together, a shadow passing his eyes, and reached for the pitcher. "Some juice?"

"Please," Hermione said with a gentle voice. Ron had taken the loss of his best friend hard, harder than Hermione even, and Hermione was certain the redhead was blaming himself – Harry had gone to face Voldemort _alone_. It didn't help to know that Harry hadn't confided in anyone before appearing at the Riddle Manor. From the bits Harry could remember – his memory was slightly blank from the day the battle to the death occurred - , Hermione had gathered he had received a letter with a Portkey that day, Voldemort saying he invited Harry to his Manor to have the final encounter.

Always eager to protect his friends from harm's way, Hermione knew, was the main reason Harry had gone alone. He had wanted to end the war for once and for all. _Brave, but oh so foolish._

She picked a roll from the basket, spreading some strawberry jam on it. Ron stared at his plate of scrambled egg, his face closed and dark. "What do you think we should do today?" she asked, trying to keep her tone light and inviting. "We haven't been to Diagon Alley for some time. Should we visit that small restaurant at the back we still haven't tried?"

"Actually," Ron said, looking up from plate, "I thought we could maybe go and see Malfoy?"

Hermione stared. Even though Ron had, after months of arguing and shouting and pleading, got over the fact that Harry was in love with the "slimy albino-ferret" and he respected Draco and perhaps even cared for him just a little, he had never volunteered to go and visit Draco before. Not if Harry wasn't present. "I just thought he looked really down yesterday, okay?" Ron muttered defensively, crossing his arms.

"That's very kind of you, Ron." She touched his arm, smiling up to him in appreciation. "Yes, Draco did look a bit gloomier than usually. I think we should walk to his – their," Hermione bit her lip for the mishap, "house after we've done eating. The weather seems to be beautiful enough."

Ron agreed and after their breakfast, Hermione cleaned the kitchen with a few clever house-hold spells and they took off. The narrow road leading to Draco's house twirled alongside a lazily streaming river for some time before cutting across a small patch of forest full of sunshine and finally crossing a vast meadow, its longish grass swaying gently in the light breeze. They felt the familiar, accepting tingle travelling across their bodies as they passed through the protective wards surrounding the house that came into view shortly after.

Hermione listened to any kind of sounds of living as they climbed to the porch, hearing nothing but the soft twitter of birds on the grounds. She knocked once they reached the front door. "Draco?" she called, frowning when there was no answer. "Draco?"

"I think he's sitting by the kitchen table." Ron peered through a window and sharply rapped his knuckles against the glass. "Oi! Malfoy!"

"Let me see, let me _see_, Ron." Hermione nudged the redhead impatiently aside and stood on her toes, cupping her hand to shield her eyes against the reflecting sunshine. Indeed, there _was_ someone sitting in the kitchen, their back turned towards the hall window. And there was no mistaking the platinum blond hair that shone like a beacon. "Oh this is stupid. Maybe he can't hear us... "

She pushed the door open – it wasn't always locked since the wards around the house prevented the entrance anyone with intentions to hurt – and stepped in with Ron in tow. "Draco?"

Still, no reply. Hermione and Ron shared concerned looks and advanced further into the house. They found Draco sitting by the table with his back straight as an arrow, his head slightly bowed with bangs of hair falling into his eyes. He didn't move an inch as his uninvited guests crept closer, cautious and frowning, and he was staring at the table like a frozen statue.

"Draco?" Hermione laid a hesitant hand on Draco's stiff shoulder. "Draco, what's wrong?"

Finally, Draco moved. He turned his head to look at Hermione, and she was met with a pair of darkened eyes, large and distraught. Hermione's fingers dug deeper into his shoulder. "Draco, please tell us what's wrong!"

Draco blinked, then, and came out of his daze with a light shudder. "Granger," he said, his voice just a croak. "Weasley. What a pleasant surprise."

"Stop kidding around, Malfoy," Ron snapped and took a step closer, his eyes sweeping the kitchen as if to search for some immediate threat. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"I... " Draco's eyes landed on an envelope lying on the table in front of him. "I received a letter this morning."

Hermione glanced at the letter in question, and frowned. It looked like an official letter from the Ministry. "What does it say?"

A grimace flickered on Draco's face. "I don't know. I haven't opened it yet."

Ron scoffed with impatience. "Oh come off it, Malfoy -"

"Ron." He fell silent at Hermione's warning gaze. She looked at Draco shrewdly, then, understanding in her eyes. "You think it's bad news about Harry, don't you?"

Draco lowered his gaze, almost shamefully. "Yes," he whispered.

Ron had paled a little, his freckles standing out, but his face was set with determination. "Well. We can't know until we open the letter." And with that, he snatched the letter and broke the seal, fishing out the letter. Draco didn't protest, he just stared at Ron in anticipation, his lips so tightly pursed together it looked like he had no mouth at all.

Hermione watched Ron skim the letter through, her apprehension mounting as Ron paled even more and his blue eyes widened with what seemed like utter shock. "Ron, what it is it?"

Ron swallowed, blinking. "Harry's coming home," he finally said. "Harry's coming home."

"_What_?" Hermione all but cried out in unison with Draco, and she ripped the letter from Ron's slackened grip. Drawing a shaky breath, she started to read the letter aloud for Draco's benefit.

"Dear Mr. Malfoy,

As the closest legal relative to Harry James Potter, we hereby inform you that it has been decided to release the said Valerius into your custody. Someone from the Auror Department will escort Mr. Potter into the location of your choosing this evening at eight pm. Expect the escort to contact you later today in order to discuss the details.

Once Mr. Potter arrives, you are in charge of his actions from that moment on. Should something happen, you are likely to be charged with article 4b (Careless Behaviour as a Magical Creature Owner) If you feel unable to take this responsibility, please contact us as soon as possible so that we can organize another caretaker.

Sincerely,

Mathias Griffin, Head of Dangerous Creature Control"

A stunned silence ensued. Hermione kept staring at the letter as if the letter held all the answers for her endless questions, Draco was making a rather apt imitation of an albino goldfish and Ron all but collapsed into the nearest chair available.

"They're... releasing Harry?" Draco whispered at last, his hand flailing out to grab support from the table. "They're really releasing him?"

"That's what it says..." Despite the bubble of sudden joy that began to work its way through the shock, Hermione couldn't help but wonder that the Ministry wasn't letting Harry go just for the goodness of their hearts. But before she could really start pondering on it, she was attacked by a blonde blur as Draco threw himself at her with a sob, his long arms pulling a sputtering Ron to join the sudden embrace. Never having seen Draco act so uncharacteristically, Hermione was successfully rendered speechless once more.

"Harry's free," Draco murmured into Hermione's hair, as if they hugged on a regular bases. "He's going to be free."

"There, there, Malfoy," Ron said, rather uncomfortably, and Hermione saw him awkwardly pat Draco's back. The blonde sniffed and with a shuddering breath, pulled away. He hid his face for a moment, blond bangs working like a shied before looking up again with suspiciously bright eyes. He had two spots of colour on his cheeks and he seemed a little abashed at his emotional breakdown. "I apologize," he said stiffly, his back straight as an arrow again.

"There's nothing to apologize." Hermione gave a slight smile. "After all, it's perfectly normal to feel glad at the prospect of having your fiancé finally back."

Draco answered the smile at the word 'fiancé', his smile so bright and joyful that Hermione felt something burning behind her eyelids. Impatiently, she wiped her eyes and looked at the letter again. ""Expect the escort to contact you later today in order to discuss the details"," she cited with a frown. "I wonder who – Merlin!"

Everyone startled as an owl suddenly burst through the window, its wings almost knocking Ron aside as the large bird fluttered across the kitchen to land on the table.

"I really should learn to close that window," Draco muttered and held out a hand. "Yes, another letter for me?"

The owl looked at Draco sharply, as if to reprimand him for his impatience, but lifted its leg obediently so that Draco could reach the scroll attached to it. As soon as he had the scroll, the owl clucked and took flight again, much like the previous one. Draco flicked his wand to shut the window without a sound before opening the scroll.

"This is from Kingsley," he muttered, glancing through the letter. "He's the one who's going to bring Harry." He looked definitely relieved at the prospect of Kingsley handling Harry rather than some nameless Ministry official. Then he frowned again. "He says he knows the real reason why they're letting Harry go." His voice became dark and frosty. "I _knew_ there was going to be a catch."

"How bad could it be?" Ron asked, though his face held a great deal of wariness and suspicion. Despite being a Ministry worker himself as an Auror, he didn't trust anyone else beside his family and Kingsley who worked there. He had learnt his lesson – even those who he and the others had considered as friends, such as Seamus Finnegan, had silently gone along with the Ministry when they had imprisoned Harry.

"Knowing them," Draco spit out, "it's something completely unjust."

"We'll just have to wait," Hermione said quietly. "Kingsley is coming to visit, right?"

"Yes." Draco glanced at the letter again. "He'll use the Floo to come by in an hour. I better set the wards to accept him."

Leaving the scroll to lie on the table, he strode out of kitchen without a backwards glance, calm and poised. However, after a short moment, there was a series of loud crashes from upstairs as Draco most probably vented his frustration by throwing random items against the wall.

_Poor him, _Hermione thought, Ron's warm hand in hers, comforting and solacing_, after months of fruitless battles, he just heard he's going to be united with Harry again, and now he knows it's not that simple after all._

* * *

_I bloody hate them!_

A _crash_ as a glass figurine, a cheap gift from someone, hit the wall and sent gleaming shards of glass flying all over the place. _Those fucking fools, ignorant bastards!_

He had been _so_ happy, delirious even, but just for a tiny moment – before he realized the truth. The truth that the Ministry would never let Harry go just like that, without demanding something back at the very least.

_Why can't they just leave us be._

Shoulders sagging, Draco sank against the window sill in his bedroom with a jaded sigh. He brushed away the glistering dust of glass with a careless wave of his wand.

_I'm so tired of fighting._

He closed his eyes, letting the cool glass of the window sooth him. He was afraid the Ministry was going to take Harry away the moment they got what they wanted, and the mere thought of losing Harry again made Draco's breath hitch and his hands curled into fists. _Not this time. Once Harry gets home, I'm not going to let them take him away. I won't_.

His face a mask of cool resolution, he got to his feet and raised his wand, starting to shift the wards so that they would recognize Kingsley and allow him to enter the house through the Floo. After he was done, he went back downstairs and calmly enquired whether his guests, now uncertainly sitting in the parlour, wished to have some ice tea as they waited.

Kingsley arrived in his usual way; composed and unwavering. He brushed off the dust from his scarlet robes and steadfastly regarded the people gathered in the parlour. He nodded to Ron and Hermione, showing no surprise at seeing them, as well. "Ron, Hermione." He looked at Draco in the eye. "Draco. How have you been?"

"Fine, fine, we're all fine," Draco snapped, agitated and impatient. "Now what's the deal with returning Harry back to us?"

Kingsley hesitated a short moment. "I'm afraid you're not going to like it. I just received word myself, and I am most displeased at the Ministry right now."

"How bad can it be?" Draco repeated Ron's words and gave a forced laugh. "It's not like they're going to ask Harry to destroy the next Dark Lord."

Kingsley pursed his lips and looked down.

At that moment, Draco felt his world tip upside down once more.

* * *


	4. Peace No More

_**

* * *

**_

Give Me Wings to Fly With

_**Summary**_: Having Harry Potter locked up as a dangerous beast, the Ministry shows no signs of gratitude for the Defeater of Voldemort. Until there is a new threat to be considered...

_**Warnings**_: Violence (perhaps even some gore), Cursing, Established Relationship (HPDM), Character Death

_**Disclaimer**_: Not mine but Rowling's.

**A/N**: If it weren't for purplerawr, people would be lounging on poor coaches instead of couches.

Thanks for all the lovely reviews!

* * *

**Chapter IV – Peace No More**

"_How bad can it be?" Draco repeated Ron's words and gave a forced laugh. "It's not like they're going to ask Harry to destroy the next Dark Lord."_

_Kingsley pursed his lips and looked down. _

_At that moment, Draco felt his world tip upside down once more._

"You're kidding?" he whispered and his tongue felt like sandpaper in his mouth, burning and itching. "Please tell me you're kidding."

"I'd love to say I'm kidding, but alas," Kingsley said in a grave tone, "that is the truth."

"Another Dark Lord?" Hermione gasped, hands flying up to cover her mouth as she stared at Kingsley, aghast. "That's impossible."

"The Ministry didn't change after the last war." Kingsley words held great resentment. "They should have worked to bring the Wizarding world together, but instead, inequality has spread and become even worse than before the wars. That raises a lot of aversion and bitterness among the ones left out from the main population."

"How come this is not public knowledge yet?" Ron asked, though he looked like he already knew the answer.

"Only very few are aware of what is happening. The Ministry doesn't want the public to know and panic, after such a short time of peace. I do not agree with this policy, but what can I do?" Kingsley shrugged. "Resigning from my post would only do more harm as some inexperienced Ministry's puppet would take my place and the Auror Department would spiral into chaos."

Draco silently agreed with him. The man was right – he remained one of the few uncorrupted Ministry officials out there, and Draco liked it to remain that way. "Who is it, then? The new and up-and-coming Dark Lord."

From the small pause Kingsley made, the way his eyes grew apologetic, Draco knew it was someone they all knew. He felt his insides squirm unpleasantly. "It is Theodore Nott."

_Theodore Nott._

For some reason, Draco didn't feel overly surprised. An image of the gangly, sullen teenager he had faintly known at school floated in front of his eyes, glaring with a dour twist of his thin mouth. _Oh Theodore. You fool._

"Nott?" Ron frowned. "He disappeared from Hogwarts after our sixth year, didn't he? Never came back."

"I haven't heard anything of him ever since." Hermione glanced at Draco, her brown eyes quizzical. "Did you know him well, Draco?"

_Thank Merlin I didn't._ Draco shook his head. "I'm afraid not. He was pretty aloof at school, usually alone with his books and he always looked ready to bite anyone who approached him. We shared a dorm, yes, but we weren't really friends. I never really even talked with him that much. He was the silent and brooding type. "

Kingsley nodded. "That fits the profile. He did indeed disappear during the summer after his sixth year, telling no-one of his purpose and destination. From what we've gathered, he travelled to north and mingled with the Wizarding population there, learning different kind of magic, powerful magic. Magic we do not use here in Britain."

"Dark Arts?" Ron asked.

"In a way, yes, but it's more than that. It's old and foreign magic we haven't studied that much. The Ministry experts are trying to find out more about it, but we've already given a demonstration of how it works."

Kingsley's face was grim and a chill ran down Draco's spine. "He's already shown his power, hasn't he?"

"There was an attack the day before yesterday," Kingsley said heavily, taking the chair a wordless Hermione offered him. "A small village near Swindon was almost completely destroyed. A few survivors remained to tell what had happened."

He looked like he didn't really care to relive any details, so Draco restrained himself of asking. He began to feel sick.

"Oh my god." Hermione looked completely aghast, her eyes wide with horror. "He has an _army_ of his own or something?"

"Who rallies behind him?" Ron's left eye twitched. "Is this about the purebloods feeling superior again?"

Kingsley shook his head._ Not a surprise there. The purebloods have learned their lesson_, Draco thought. "No, it's not the purebloods who are causing problems this time. It's the opposite, in fact."

Draco glanced at Hermione swiftly. "The Muggle-borns?"

"Some might be Muggle-borns, but most of the troops Nott has gathered have much more anger towards the Ministry and the Wizarding World on the whole." Kingsley looked at the stack of papers he held on his arms. "So far, we've discovered people with magical being blood – such as vampires or Veela – who are being frowned upon and left out or even prosecuted because most of the main population doesn't consider them as humans but part-animals. Some half-bloods have taken Nott's ideals to their hearts, as well. "

"He's summoning the magical creatures to raise another war?" Hermione whispered.

Kingsley gave a grave nod. "It seems so. So far, the threat hasn't been great, but as every day passes and Nott remains at large, there is no knowing what he might do. For those without real human value and legal rights, he promises better treatment, something that the Ministry hasn't been able to offer. And instead of just opposing Muggles like Voldemort and his Death Eaters did, this new group is against people with all types of blood."

"So far?" Draco repeated, narrowing his eyes. "You are anticipating it grows worse?"

"Nott and his small army is still lying pretty low, but they're getting bolder. It's only a matter of time when they will make their first public demand."

"Is there a particular reason why Nott is doing this? Isn't he a pureblood himself?"

Sometimes, Draco really did have to admit Ron had grown more shrewd and far-sighted. _It was the war that changed all of us. War that we thought had come to an end. _

Kingsley acknowledged Ron's question with a nod. "Indeed, there are some grievous incidents in Nott's past that may have triggered his anger and frustration. When Nott was fifteen, Nott's aunt, Malecia Nott was attacked by a rogue vampire. She was turned into a sort of half-vampire with the thirst of blood but none of the weaknesses common vampire species possess. With proper care and caution, she could have probably continued her life without endangering the people around her, but the Ministry sent Aurors to question her. She resisted, and the Aurors killed her." There was a hard glint in Kingsley's eyes. "The Aurors claim it was self-defence, but I find myself doubting it."

Hermione's lower lip trembled, as if she had to restrain herself not to launch into a passionate tirade about corrupted Ministry officials. "Was Nott close to his aunt?"

"Not overly so, no. But Nott knew now how the Ministry handled things."

"That helps understand his anger towards the Ministry," Draco murmured. "But why didn't he just join Voldemort? If Voldemort won, the Ministry would have fallen anyway."

Kingsley's lips twisted into a humourless smile. "Nott managed to see the darker side of Voldemort, as well. Voldemort killed Nott's illegitimate half-brother, a half-blood with a Muggle mother."

"So he feels betrayed by both sides." Hermione said, revelation in her voice. "And decides to form a third side – the side of the misfits."

"In essence, yes," Kingsley agreed. "A side for all those unable to adapt to their circumstances, those who, in the eyes of most witches and wizards, aren't worthy of being called human, without full legal rights. Half-species, like Nott's aunt, wizards with magical being blood, regular half-bloods who feel like they fall in the middle. Misfits, just like Hermione said."

"Why is Harry being released, then?" Draco suddenly asked. "He's a magical being, a dark one, even. He has every right to hate the Ministry. Why let him loose instead of locking him up to ensure he won't fall into the influence of Nott and start following him?"

Ron and Hermione sharpened up instantly and looked at Kingsley, anticipative. The Head Auror met the gazes calmly. "I believe the Minister fears an upcoming war more than Harry. He also knows that you three, in addition to Harry, have better chances at finding Nott and his troops than the rest of the Aurors, for example. And he understands that without freeing Harry, he has no chance of having your cooperation. Besides, it is likely Nott will strike the Ministry's lower levels in the near future in an effort of gaining more soldiers with hatred towards the Ministry. The Minister, though a fool, is smart enough to acknowledge that between you and Nott, with you, Harry is more unlikely to be a threat against the Minister."

Draco nodded his head slowly. It made sense, in a way. Choosing the lesser evil. "And what does the Minister, exactly, want us to do?"

Kingsley consulted his papers again. "He wants you to locate Nott and bring him in before he is ready to really start a war. According to him, you will have access to any department you wish in the Ministry to gain knowledge or weapons." He looked up shortly. "You will have my full support and aid in every way. I'm truly sorry this burden has been left on your shoulders, but there's little I can do, unfortunately."

"The Minister is an idiot and a coward," Draco spat, venom practically leaking from his words, "but I don't personally wish for another war upon us. As long as Harry stays free, I'll do my share of bringing Nott down."

"As do I," Ron solemnly nodded, echoed by Hermione. They looked a little shaken, but as determined as humanely possible.

Kingsley stood up. "I will go finish the paperwork and return with Harry in two hours. Will you be waiting here?"

_For Harry, I would wait forever._ "Yes, I'll be here."

With a parting nod, Kingsley stepped back into the fireplace. "Again, my apologies. I wish things were different within the Ministry so that we could finally live in peace."

"We'll know who to vote at the next Minister elections," Draco said with a wry grin. Kingsley gave a small smile of his own, white, shark-like teeth showing, before he vanished in a puff of green flames. The kitchen was left silent and it seemed empty despite the three people still in it.

"Well." Ron blinked. "Could someone just please pinch me? I'm pretty sure I've had a very strange dream just now."

"At least Harry gets to return home," Hermione said with a sigh of mixed happiness and tiredness. "I don't care how many Dark Lords we have to hunt down and kill, getting Harry out from that horrible place is worth it."

"You completely read my mind, Hermione," Draco murmured, almost wistfully. He could already feel Harry in his arms, his warm breath tickling his ear like a gentle summer breeze – Draco swallowed, giving a tiny shudder.

"It's so hard to believe." Ron stared into the distance, hardly moving. "After all these months... We're really going to see him outside those bars. He's finally going to be able to actually live his life."

"Do you think..." Hermione fidgeted nervously, as if she was afraid to burst the temporary happy bubble surrounding them. "Do you think Nott will try to recruit Harry? I'm sure Nott knows his story and all. Harry would be an ideal soldier for him – powerful, well-known and disgracefully mistreated by the Ministry."

Draco's face hardened at the thought and a fresh spike of fear staked through his heart. "Over my dead body," he hissed. "If he even tries that, I'll rip him apart limb by limb."

Hermione didn't look that convinced, her face shadowed with doubt and uncertainty, but she didn't question Draco's plan. "The Minister should be glad Harry has such a big heart he would help the Minister instead of destroying it."

"You suppose Harry will agree to help?" Ron mused with a thoughtful frown. "After all, he _does_ have every rightful reason to turn his back and ignore the plead of help."

"You think Harry would do that?" Hermione asked softly. "Harry, turning his back and letting the world spiral into another war of darkness and death? No." She shook her head. "Harry would never do that."

"He's too kind for his own good," Draco agreed with a faint smile and Ron chuckled. _Too damn kind. _The blonde glanced at Ron and Hermione. "I guess you two will be staying until Harry arrives?"

"If you won't object... " Hermione trailed off, worried brown eyes searching the grey ones. Draco suppressed a sigh; how could he throw them out in a moment like this? Their best friend would be coming back home, it would be cruel to ask them to leave and pop by some another time. He knew how strong the friendship was between the two and Harry.

"Of course not," he said. "Would you like some late breakfast?"

"We just ate -"

"If you still have those chocolate-chip cookies Harry used to make lying around - "

A genuine grin fought its way onto Draco's lips as Ron's words faded into incoherent murmur under Hermione's fierce glower. "You just ate, Ronald," she snapped. "A full breakfast -"

"I think I have a few of the cookies left," Draco breezily interrupted the pair before it could blossom into a real fight. Ron smiled at him gratefully as he left to search the freezer for the said cookies. After a few moments of exploring, he fished out a plastic box and unfroze its content with his wand. A scent of chocolate flew into the air as he levitated the box towards the table.

A scent he usually associated with Harry, who more than often had an aroma of chocolate and vanilla flowing around him like a delicious, invisible coat. Draco closed his eyes, savouring the smell, and for a short moment, all Draco's worries and concerns faded into nothingness.

_flashback, two months before Voldemort is conquered_

"_Mm, what are you baking?" _

_Harry glanced over his shoulder, a sprinkler of white flour on his cheek, and gave a saucy wink. "Your favourites. Chocolate cookies with vanilla icing."_

_Draco wrapped his arms around Harry from the behind, nuzzling his neck. "You spoil me rotten, Harry, you really do."_

_Harry replied with a carefree laugh, a sound that Draco so adored. "It's my pleasure, believe me. They'll be ready in fifteen minutes. Oh, and Claw helped me prepare these, by the way."_

"_He did?" Draco looked around in interest and quickly spotted the tiny dragon, perched on the neat pile of plates in front of the open window. The dragon gave a joyful roar, its leathery wings flapping. "How?"_

"_He flew around the kitchen and fetched ingredients when I needed them," Harry said fondly. He had grown attached to the small dragon that had been in Malfoy possession for decades – it was ancient and Draco suspected it was made of pure magic instead of just mere flesh and bone. He had never seen such a miniature dragon before. _

_It was Harry, of course, who had nicknamed the creature 'Claw'._

"_A clever thing," Draco praised and the dragon squeaked with what seemed like pleasure. It flapped its wings with more force, hovering in the air for a moment before darting out through the window. Draco didn't worry about the dragon; sometimes it disappeared for days, but it always came faithfully back. _

_Harry laughed again as Draco sniffed at his hair, inhaling the sweet scent of chocolate and vanilla with a pleased smile on his face. "_You_ smell _delicious_, Harry."_

_Harry hummed, twirling around in Draco's embrace so that they were face to face. The sight of his open face, lit up and laughing, a smear of chocolate on his lower lip – it filled Draco with so much love and adoration it nearly ached. _What have I done to deserve this wonderful creature?

_Flinging his arms around Draco's neck, Harry gave a small, flirtatious grin and reached up to kiss Draco soundly on the lips. Draco tasted chocolate on Harry's lips and his breath and couldn't resist a tiny moan. "Say, how long can those cookies go unattended?" he asked, breathless._

_Harry laughed, green eyes twinkling like tiny little stars in the dark. His hands slipped down Draco's back, raising goose-bumps as they went. "I'm sure they can survive being alone for a half an hour, if they can watch us."_

_It was Draco's turn to laugh. "You dirty little voyeur. But I won't mind." _

_And he pushed Harry against the counter, yearning for another taste of chocolate._

_end flashback_

"I really hope Harry still knows how to cook." Ron's face was of pure bliss as he munched on the cookie. "Hell, he could send Nott a box of these and the little git would be grovelling in Harry's feet in no time, wanting for some more."

Determined not to take Ron's words the wrong way, Draco coughed and poured a glass of pumpkin juice for himself.

Time seemed to pass as slowly as a two hundred-year old tortoise with a magical walking frame crossing a busy street, but finally, the flames in the fireplace flared bright green again. Everyone jumped to their feet at once, hearts wildly thumping in anticipation as they stared at the fireplace like their lives were depended on it.

Soon enough, a spinning figure appeared in the midst of the fire and Kingsley stepped out from the fireplace. A limp Harry lay in his arms like a sleeping doll, his eyes closed as he rested there, wings neatly tucked underneath him with the long feathers dragging against the ground. Draco's hands balled into fists as his eyes caught the vibrating string of magic wrapped around his wrists and ankles.

Kingsley nodded to them all, not sparing time to greet them properly. "He's heavily sedated; they wouldn't let him out otherwise. I tried to make sure he feels as comfortable as possible and managed to change the strong restraints on his limbs into these milder ones. Where can I put him? On a couch?"

Draco hurried to show the way to the nearest coach and watched, hawk-like, as Kingsley gently deposited Harry onto it. Harry's wings rustled, slightly bent, and Harry frowned in his drugged sleep, as if he sensed the discomfort of his wings. Hermione crouched to arrange the feathers better, gathering them around Harry's form like a protective shield.

"Before I go and leave you to enjoy some quiet time with Harry, here are the release papers for him." Kingsley fished a stack of papers from underneath his robes. Draco took the offered parchment and a quill. "Sign here. It says you're responsible for Harry's actions from this moment on." He shrugged. "Pretty much like a parent is for their child."

Draco skimmed the parchment through impatiently, fully trusting Kingsley for not giving him something to sign that would sell his soul to the Ministry. He signed his name with a flourish and returned the parchment which Kingsley tucked away into the folds of his robes. "And here's something that may help you locating Nott."

Draco glanced at the rest of the papers and saw maps, hastily written notes, photographs, official statements. He nodded his thanks.

"I must be on my way now." Kingsley glanced at Harry, slightly twitching on the couch. "Harry should be awake in a moment. He might be quite disoriented at first, but don't worry. The drugs shouldn't effect him long."

Before the Head Auror could leave, Draco reached for his hand and clasped it for a moment. "Thanks, Kingsley," he said with great sincerity, knowing Kingsley watched their backs in the Ministry. "Thanks for everything."

A smile shadowed the man's face. "It was my pleasure, trust me. I hope Harry will find happiness now. He may not be able to join the Auror force now, but we'll see what happens in the future." Kingsley winked and vanished through the Floo.

"Draco!" Hermione's gasp drew quickly Draco's attention back to Harry and he saw that the Valerius' eyes were fluttering, straining to open. Hastily, Draco dropped onto his knees beside the coach, grabbing one of the madly twitching hands. A second later, the blonde found himself staring into a pair of gleaming black eyes that held no familiar specks of green. The hand Draco held trembled and Harry's wings moved restlessly, rustling against the coach like leaves ruffling in the wind during autumn.

"Guys," Draco whispered, not daring to break the eye-contact. "I think you should wait outside."


	5. Give Me This Day

_**Give Me Wings to Fly With**_

_**Summary**_: Having Harry Potter locked up as a dangerous beast, the Ministry shows no signs of gratitude for the Defeater of Voldemort. Until there is a new threat to be considered...

_**Warnings**_: Violence (perhaps even some gore), Cursing, Established Relationship (HPDM), Character Death

_**Disclaimer**_: Not mine but Rowling's.

**A/N**: I understand that the techniques of Legilimency used in this chapter are not very canon. But let's pretend they are.

As always, a massive thank you to the greatest beta invented.

* * *

**Chapter V – Give Me This Day**

"_Guys," Draco whispered, not daring to break the eye-contact. "I think you should wait outside."_

"What?"

Ron's outraged voice made Draco nearly wince and Harry bared his teeth, his eyes still black and unseeing. "Get out", he said through clenched teeth, watching as Harry's muscles strained under his grip. "He's not himself yet. Please, go outside – I will get you once Harry calms down."

Hermione grabbed Ron's arm as the redhead began to sputter, just as Harry let out a shrill shriek, his back arching like a tightly stretched bow. Desperate, Draco threw himself on the Valerius, pinning him down with his whole weight. A low, warning growl rumbled in the blonde's ears. "Go!"

Draco didn't turn his head away, staring into the depths of the black pools of Harry's wild eyes, but a few seconds later, he heard the telltale slam of a door as Ron and Hermione fled. He felt like sighing in relief, but the fierce hiss Harry made forced him to refocus again - _snap out of it, Harry! _Draco nearly growled himself as Harry flashed his teeth at him. _Damn those drugs._

"Harry, Harry – listen to me!" Draco had to shout to get heard over the hissing and growling noises Harry produced. "Harry, listen to my voice. You're home, Harry, you're home – can you hear me?"

Harry, obviously not listening, threw Draco off with a shriek and leaped to his feet, his wings intimidatingly spreading around him. Draco scampered back a few steps, raising his arms to show Harry he was not a threat. "Harry -"

There was a flurry of movement as Harry whirled around, retreating and finally disappearing behind a corner like a fleeting, dark ghost. Draco cursed under his breath, mentally strangling those disgusting Ministry officials who had drugged Harry, snapped his fingers to make sure no-one could get into the house or exit the house and hastily took off after Harry.

There was no sign of Harry in neither the hall nor the kitchen, but Draco spotted a single, black feather lying on the stairs. Silent and unafraid, Draco crept up the stairs, looking around cautiously. He was aware that he should be at least a little scared since the Valerius were not known for their gentleness, but he knew Harry would never hurt him. He had had his chance in the sitting room; Harry could have ripped his head off in mere seconds, but he had chosen to bolt instead.

"Harry?" he called out, peeking into rooms as he walked along the corridor upstairs, worry and rapidly growing anxiety gnawing at his mind. "Harry, sweetie, where are you?"

Finally, he cracked the door to their bedroom open and there was Harry, sitting curled up on the floor with his suddenly listless wings unmoving. His head was bowed and he was holding something in his hands, something he was clutching so hard his knuckles were turned white. Draco squinted and saw something shiny and silvery glimpsing through his fingers – the promise bracelet Draco had given him once and that he had been keeping on the shelf since it had been ripped away from Harry's wrist.

The sound of his footsteps alerted Harry as Draco approached, and the Valerius looked up at once, craning his neck back to see better. Draco's heart felt suddenly a great deal less heavy at the sight of Harry's eyes: still dark and smouldering, but gradually changing into the familiar lighter green even as Draco watched.

"Harry?" he whispered again, anticipation making his voice tremble. Harry blinked once, twice.

"Draco?" Harry's tone was mildly surprised, confused – as if he had no idea where he was or how he had gotten there. His face held resemblance to a lost puppy so effectively that Draco threw all caution to the wind and leapt to Harry's side in a flash, wrapping his arms around him despite the startled gasp it drew from Harry. Nothing else mattered at that moment – just the feeling of Harry in his arms again, his warm body pressed against him like it was meant to.

"Harry, Harry, Harry," he chanted into the shock of black hair, rocking Harry like he was a small, frightened child.

For a moment, they clung to each other, two shaking forms needing the strength from the other. Then Harry lifted his head and Draco saw the verdant green in his eyes again, clouded with uncertainty and disarray, but green nevertheless. Draco smiled, gently brushing a lock of hair away from those beautiful eyes. "Harry."

"What's going on?" Harry's gaze darted around, quick and suspicious. His fingers curled in Draco's robes like claws. "I know this place. It's our home, in the Fens." The claws dug in deeper and Harry's breath came in rapid, panicky bursts of air. "This is a dream. This is a dream, isn't it?"

"No, Harry, this is no dream," Draco murmured, making his voice as soothing as possible. Slowly, he picked up the bracelet from Harry's slackened grip and placed it around Harry's wrist. The bracelet glowed for a moment, pulsing, as if it knew it had returned to its rightful home. "You're really here. Really home."

Harry stared at the bracelet with wonder in his eyes. He flexed his fingers, perhaps seeing whether the bracelet would fall off, and switched his stare towards Draco. "How?" he just breathed.

Draco held Harry's hand in his own, relishing in the warmth it radiated. "It doesn't matter," he said, squeezing Harry's hand. He didn't want to break the truth for him just yet. He wanted him to have happiness, even for just one day. It was childish and even dangerous of him, he knew it, but how could he resist – it was Harry's first day back and he wanted him to enjoy it. "All that matters now that you're home where you belong. The Ministry finally relented."

Suspicion made Harry's eyes narrow into slits and for a moment, he vividly resembled the wild creature he had been turned to. Then he blinked and drew back with one, jerky movement, seemingly calming down. "Fine," he said shortly, his gaze steady on Draco as if to make sure the blonde realized he, Harry, was only playing along with the obvious lie for now. _My smart little Gryffindor,_ Draco thought with a fond smile and stroked Harry's cheek. Harry tilted his head slightly to the side and let out a soft purr, his lips twitching into a cat-like smile. Draco laughed at the sound and kissed Harry, lightly enough but with real passion quivering just underneath the surface.

Harry broke the kiss, his face lit by a smile so brilliant Draco knew he had made the right choice. "I'm really home," he whispered in awe, his gaze savouring the sight of their bedroom around him. Draco watched as Harry went through the room, briefly caressing random items on the shelves, on the tables, on the bed – a smile playing on his lips at times as he seemed to recall the good old times, his eyes wistful. His wings quietly rustling behind him, Harry moved with grace akin to a panther and slipped out of the room like a dark shadow, glancing over his shoulder to make sure Draco was still with him.

Trailing after the slowly advancing Valerius, Draco didn't suddenly know what to do or say now that Harry was finally home, after months of bitter battles that had left him so powerless. He watched with keen eyes as Harry sniffed the air, his slim fingers brushing against the wall while his head moved searchingly around to ascertain that there was nothing threatening around. The old Harry had been graceful enough not to be fooled for a Longbottom, but he had never had the grace of a stalking animal he now possessed; he had been watchful and cautious when needed, but the new Harry seemed to use all his senses to ensure there was nothing dangerous around the corner without appearing skittish or frightened.

To some extent, he was a whole new creature.

But as Harry threw yet another glance over his shoulder, the smile he flashed was enough to let Draco know there was still the most important part of Harry intact. The kindness he held in his heart, the bravery he used to help those weaker than him, the inner strength that radiated from him like the beams of the sun.

_The very essence of Harry, _thought Draco and gently smiled back. _He's still here, the old Harry. He never left; he just had a... a radical makeover_. Ignoring the fact that he was, again, starting to sound like Hagrid defending all kinds of dangerous pets he kept, Draco followed Harry as the Valerius smoothly descended the stairs.

"Didn't they tell you anything back at the Ministry?" he carefully asked just to have something to speak of. Harry's spine stiffened for a short second.

"No," he said, quickly glancing at Draco and then looking away. "They just came and held me while someone poured something down my throat. I don't know what it was, but I started to feel dizzy and couldn't stay on my feet anymore..." Even though Harry had turned away, Draco could hear him swallowing. The blonde rested a hand on Harry's slightly trembling back.

"Can you show me?" he asked in a whisper. They had greatly mistreated his Harry again and Draco felt the usual anger simmering once more, but this time, he forced it back.

Harry hesitated only a moment before nodding. Draco grabbed his hand and gently turned Harry to face him. Harry's eyes were large and unblinking, fire burning in the depths, but trusting nevertheless. Holding the gaze, Draco whispered the incantation and, as cautiously as he could, plunged into Harry's mind that now spread around him in layers of darkness and whispering voices. Shadows slithered like gigantic snakes at his feet as he gently searched for the specific memory, but Draco didn't feel threatened – he knew nothing could harm him with Harry trusting him the way he did. Soon, the memory he was looking for was willingly pushed forward and with baited breath, Draco reached a hand to touch it.

"_We don't have to hurt you if you cooperate," warned a burly man with a hard face, holding his wand high, but his words held such brutality that anyone hearing them would know he was lying. He _wanted_ to hurt him._

_And Harry sensed that, too, snarling at the man with viciousness that send a couple of the other men scampering away. The man sighed in fake sadness, shook his head and advanced towards the bars that separated him and the Valerius. Harry took a step back and dropped into a slight crouch, his teeth bared in dire warning. His black eyes were narrowed in sheer fury, and even Draco, the invisible bystander, could feel the suffocating waves of anger. He shuddered._

"_Stun it," the man ordered matter-of-factly, his hands on the cage door. Harry hissed, watching the other few men creep hesitantly closer, and collected his wings close to his body to protect himself, using them as a feathery shield as stunning spells were fired. The spells bounced off the wings, careening around the large room that was suddenly illuminated by the jolts of red magic, but the shock from the numerous curses caused Harry to be thrown against the back side of the cage with a metallic clang that made Draco wince in fear and pain. _

_The beefy man opened the door in a flash and jumped inside, heedlessly kicking the wings aside to reveal Harry underneath. Harry was blinking in confusion, obviously knocked out by the sturdy bars, but he either caught sight of the man leaning over him or the pain from his wings being so badly treated made him jolt awake – he snarled, attempting to spread his powerful wings. But the space around him was too cramped for him to successfully gain full use of the wings, and the man laughed scornfully, aiming a fierce kick at Harry's vulnerable stomach. _

"_How pitiful," the man sneered and Draco stared at him, memorizing every detail about him from the cold, blue eyes above the roughly shaped nose to the ragged scar on his neck. He would remember this man. He would remember him and hunt him down._

_The man, unaware of his future fate, dug in his pockets and fished out a vial of dark red potion. He grinned, displaying yellowish, crooked teeth that put Snape's to shame, and curled his potion-free hand around Harry's throat. Harry, wheezing in pain and discomfort, his wings on the verge of breaking, growled; a deep, guttural sound, but the man squeezed and Harry's mouth snapped open instinctively to gasp for air. He sputtered and coughed as the man force-fed him the potion, spatters of red liquid glistening on his jaw from the desperate thrashing._

_Harry's vision began to flicker, to darken. The memory Draco was watching became like a badly edited film as Harry's began to drift towards unconsciousness. _

"_There, that wasn't that hard, was it?" the man jeered, patting Harry's head like a dog's as Harry's eyes rolled back. His body went slack like a bag of potatoes as he sprawled on the ground. Tight bonds were conjured to chain his wrists and legs together._

_Draco could barely see anymore, it was blurry and the voices were distorted, but it seemed that somehow, a part of Harry's conciousness stayed awake to record this memory. _

"_Are you quite finished?" came a hard, cold voice and Draco started, whipping around in the memory. He squinted, the blurriness making it hard to recognize anyone, but he managed by walking as close as possible. Kingsley stood by the cage, his face so severe and forbidding Draco was surprised the men scattered around the room didn't run away with their tails tucked between their legs. His dark eyes flickered down to the slumped mass of black hair and feathers that was Harry, and back up to face the man standing above Harry. "We have a timetable to keep."_

_The man snorted. "Like that Malfoy brat couldn't wait."_

_Draco bristled, throwing poison-coated daggers at the man through his eyes. He began to make a mental list of very, _very_ painful curses._

_Kingsley drew to his full, impressive height and glared at the man. "Now, if you please", he said, his words icy enough to have icicles dropping from them._

_Giving a nonchalant shrug, the man bent down and picked Harry up, throwing him unceremoniously over his shoulder. Draco silently seethed at the way Harry was treated, like he was just a slice of dead meat, something completely unworthy. _

You ignorant, slimy bastards: Harry's worth a million of you.

_Harry was moved into Kingsley's arms, and Draco was momentarily swallowed by gratitude towards the Head Auror as he saw Harry being gently rearranged so that he was as comfortable as possible; Harry's wings were flowing freely instead of being painfully crushed and his head was nestled against the crook of Kingsley's arm. Kingsley looked at the other men in the room again, his lips forming a tight line in his ire. "I'll be seeing you again," he merely said, but the men glanced at each other, rather skittishly Draco was pleased to notice, at the barely veiled threat in Kingsley's seemingly innocent words. _

_The burly man shot Kingsley a bitter look and nodded. Kingsley whirled around, arms tightly wrapped around Harry, and strode away in complete silence. _

With kid gloves, Draco withdrew from Harry's mind and was instantly met with a pair of solemn, green eyes. "Oh Harry," Draco sadly murmured, gathering the Valerius into a soothing embrace. Harry melted in his arms like he was made of pudding and his wings rose to briefly form a warm cocoon around them, the soft feathers caressing Draco's back.

As Draco felt Harry lay his head against his shoulder, the tufts of tangled hair tickling Draco's chin, Draco closed his eyes. But behind his closed eyelids images flashed of the men hurting Harry and he felt a vicious twinge of wanting revenge. _But I have Harry now._ He squeezed harder, burying his face into Harry's hair.

_I have him now and this time I'm not letting him go._

The moment was interrupted when the wards on the house let out a mellow chime that somehow had a questioning note. Draco cocked his head, listening. _Granger._ _Knocking on the wards._

Harry had obviously heard it too, his gaze quizzical as he lifted his head. His wings withdrew away from around Draco as they broke apart, albeit rather reluctantly. _Of course he heard it. He's still keyed into the wards the same way I am. _

"Hermione?" Harry asked softly, a bright light in his eyes as he seemed to recognize the knocker. His nose twitched.

"They're outside," Draco said. "Ron and Hermione. Waiting for you."

A wide grin appeared onto Harry's face and he let out an excited sound. The grin was contagious, and Draco found himself smiling like the owl that had caught the biggest mouse as he walked downstairs with Harry, happiness washing over him in gentle waves. For a moment, he didn't want to think about the uncertainty of the whole situation and the hard days that were on their way. Today, he would focus on Harry and all the good and wonderful things his return had made possible.

The wards made the curious sound again, slightly more impatient this time. "What is she trying to do, break down the door?" Draco muttered to himself, opening the wards again with a single wave of his hand. Like a shot, the door was flung open, just barely missing Draco, and Hermione stood in the doorway, wide-eyed.

"Hermione," Draco said mildly. " Surely, a little patience is needed at times, won't you agree?"

But she wasn't looking at the blonde – and neither was Ron, standing a little behind her – instead, their eyes were fixated on Harry, who was blinking rapidly. He had assumed a defensive crouch at the loud bang the door had made, probably by instinct, but now he stood again with fluid grace, looking just a tad embarrassed.

"Hi," he said, almost shyly, shuffling his feet and wings like a small, fidgeting child.

Hermione, with absolutely no ounce of shyness, let out a very girlish shriek and jumped at Harry with speed Draco would expect from an experienced Quidditch player. "Oh _Harry_!"

Harry half-laughed, half-purred in his obvious delight, patting her on the shoulder as she pulled away to give Ron more room, dabbing at the corners of her eyes. She then slipped away to stand next to Draco, a misty smile plastered on her face, as Ron grabbed Harry's shoulders and held him there at arm's length, solemnly looking at his best friend.

"Welcome back, mate," he said in a rough voice and pulled Harry into a short but fierce hug that seemed to leave both of them a little breathless. If Draco hadn't known that they were just friends, he might have been jealous. But now, Draco just relished the bright smile Harry wore – a smile of true happiness.

Hermione touched Harry's arm lightly, from where the bonds had been. "How are you feeling, Harry?" she asked, her eyes big and concerned. "Are you hurt?"

Harry gave a small, Harryish shrug that told everyone "It's fine, and if it isn't fine, I'm not going to tell you". Hermione pursed her lips, her eyes dangerously narrowed, but she didn't push the issue for once.

"So," Ron said, nervous atmosphere dancing around him, "did Draco tell you?"

"Tell me what?"

"How much we missed you", Draco smoothly supplied, shooting warning looks at the redhead and Hermione. _This is not the time yet,_ he soundlessly snapped. Hermione, of course, looked ready to argue, but Ron laid a hand on her arm and she fell silent, throwing a glare at Draco.

Harry had noticed the wordless communication – he wasn't _blind_, after all – but despite his curious eyes, he didn't say anything. _Love you_, Draco mouthed to him, and Harry smiled again.

"Are you hungry?" the blonde asked, glancing towards the kitchen. He frowned. "Not to be rude or anything, but you _do_ eat regular food, don't you?"

"I do," Harry said, his voice distant. "Not that the horrible broth they dished out in the Ministry could be called regular food... "

Again that spark of anger made itself known, but Draco forced himself to calm down. "There's some leftover chicken pie and fruit in the fridge. Let's have an early lunch, shall we?"

They all assembled in the kitchen, careful not to trudge on Harry's wings as the longest feathers trailed against the floor like feathery mops. Draco rummaged through the cupboards and the fridge in his search of edible food, and levitated the result onto the table: a jug of ice tea, half of a chicken pie (Draco believed it would still be as delicious as ever even though it had been in preservation stasis for months) a plate with fresh fruits, courtesy of Twinkly's handy little charms that had fruits and vegetables automatically delivered from the nearby village twice a week, and crackers.

Sitting opposite Harry, Draco kept an eye on what his fiancé ate. Harry didn't touch the crackers, just eyed them disdainfully and deftly fished out the pieces of chicken from his slice of pie. The fruits he devoured like a hungry lion would feast on a zebra, licking bits of pear and droplets of orange juice from his lips with the tip of his tongue delicately sweeping out to catch any morsels still around. Draco followed the swift movements of that pink tongue, then swallowed and quickly looked away. Suddenly very thirsty, he drank his chilled glass of ice tea in one, big gulp. _When did it become so hot in here?_

"You've got a good appetite," Hermione observed with a smile on her face. She looked like a mother proudly watching her child eat their whole plate empty.

Harry smiled back, sheepish. One more sweep of his tongue and the last of the juicy remnants of the fruits were gone. Draco found himself kind of disappointed for some reason. "These fruits were just delicious."

"I don't remember reading up about the eating habits of the Valerius." Hermione appeared a little flustered at the fact that her intense research had failed. "Maybe you like fruits now more than you did before? Perhaps the Valerius prefer fruits to other food..." she trailed off musingly, and Draco could tell she itched to raid her library and the bookshops to find out more.

Harry shrugged and pushed back his plate. His gaze scanned the kitchen and Draco knew he was assessing the situation again and making sure nothing was threatening them. Even though Harry seemed to be at ease, in a way he was constantly on guard. Mostly, it was because of the watchful nature of the Valerius, but Draco couldn't help but think that his treatment in the Ministry had caused some of his wariness.

"This was great, Draco," Harry said, indicating the very simple lunch. "But I assume Twinkly is on her holiday?"

Not taking any offence, Draco nodded. "She is, for a couple more days. She'll be overjoyed when she sees you're back."

Harry chuckled, a deep, rumbling laugh that reminded Draco of purring. "I'm sure." He gave a small, wistful smile. "I missed her, too. She really is like a miniature Mrs. Weasley."

Ron's face brightened furthermore at the mention of Mrs. Weasley. "Mum! Merlin, is she and the others going to be surprised when they see you in the Burrow!" he exclaimed, a giddy look in his eyes. "I can't wait to see their faces once you walk through the door."

Frowning, Harry hesitated. There were shadows in his eyes again. "I'm not sure if it's wise for me to go and see them, actually... "

"What?" Ron sputtered, aghast. "Why the hell not?"

"I... " Harry frowned some more and fidgeted, obviously feeling very uncomfortable. "It's not... _safe_. For them."

Now it was Ron's turn to frown. "Hogwash! You aren't going to hurt them, Harry."

"You can't know that!" Harry was getting distraught, his breath quickening and his eyes widening. He wrung his hands together. "I'm unpredictable, a Dark Creature. You can never know what I can do. I'm not safe."

He spoke in a monotone that made Draco suspect he was subconsciously echoing the words of his guards in the Ministry. _Those bastards. I'll have them hanged from their own entrails, mark my words. _He scooted closer to Harry, grabbing Harry's hands to stop them being so forcefully rubbed together; the skin was reddening. "Harry, don't say things like that."

"You're not safe?" Hermione's eyes flashed. _I bet she's thinking about the Ministry guards, too._ Her gaze warmed as she looked at Harry and she reached out to gently touch Harry's shoulder. "You may be a Valerius, Harry, but you wouldn't hurt any of us. We trust you."

"But I don't even know my own strength," Harry whispered, his voice full of raw pain. "I could hurt you even if I don't mean to."

"Then we will test it," Ron said, his face set on determination. "We will find out everything about your strengths until you feel comfortable. Because you _will_ go and see your family, Harry, even if I have to drag you in by your wings."

Harry smiled faintly, as if the image of Ron dragging him by his wings amused him, but he looked calmer and his tense shoulders had relaxed a bit. Draco wrapped an arm around him, gently caressing a silky wing with his other hand. "As Hermione said," he whispered into Harry's ear, "we trust you. No questions asked. But if you feel you can't yet trust yourself, we'll help you. Okay? We're here for you, no matter what."

A gulp of air later, Harry nodded. "Okay," he agreed, and though his voice was still rather small, he didn't shiver anymore nor did his gaze dart almost fearfully around.

"Great!" Ron smiled brightly. "Should we go outdoors a bit?"

Hermione nodded in agreement. "It's a beautiful day outside. We could take a walk to our house."

Excitement began to fill Harry's eyes at the mention of outdoors and his wings twitched, restless. _Of course. He hasn't even seen the sun for ages_.

Just a moment later, they were all standing at the front yard of Harry and Draco's house that was bathing in the warm sunshine. As soon as Harry had stepped out, a blissful expression had taken over his face and he kept gazing up at the cerulean sky, his fingers constantly touching something as he slowly walked around the garden. Just like he had done in the bedroom at first: caressing items as if touching them released some forgotten memories he had.

"He looks so happy," Hermione whispered, standing beside Draco as they all let Harry enjoy the sunshine in peace. "Just look at his face."

And Draco looked. He saw the brilliant eyes, half-closed in silent bliss as his head was tilted upwards, the straggly hair that so desperately needed a good wash and a hairbrush, the wings that shone in the bright light and that were spread out, gently moving with the breeze. His lips were parted and Draco saw his chest move as he took deep intakes of air, filling his lungs with fresh air. He did look happy, from the slight curl of his lips to the wings that were so leisurely fanning the air.

Draco smiled, feeling a part of his long-ago hardened heart soften.

"I know this is why you haven't told Harry the truth," Hermione went on, her tone so low there was no chance Harry would hear her. Draco glanced at her, expecting to see judgement and disagreement in her eyes, but instead, he encountered a softly smiling face. "You made the right choice." Harry laughed in the distance, watching a small flock of birds take flight from a nearby tree. "Let him have his happiness today. He deserves this."

"Thank you," Draco murmured in reply. "I will tell him tomorrow, I promise."

Hermione just smiled, nodding.

"Hey, mate!" Ron shouted and Harry's attention snapped to him. "Why don't you try out those wings of yours?"

Harry turned his head, looking at his wings with a calculating light in his eyes. The wing rose and fell with more force, mercilessly beating the grass field underneath Harry, and he was suddenly airborne like a giant eagle – Draco heard Hermione stifle a gasp as Harry shot upwards with one powerful flap of his wings, rising higher and higher until Draco had to shield his eyes from the sun to see him.

"Oh my," Hermione gasped, nervously watching at the Valerius. "Be careful, Harry!"

But Harry didn't need to be careful. Riding on the arms of the winds, Harry flew like he had been born with wings on his back. With the grace of a swan and the skills of a hawk, Harry claimed the sky as his own.

_One would think a winged human flying would be awkward and cumbersome._ Draco watched as Harry spiralled down fast enough for Hermione to cry out in her fright and then pull up again, his wings scraping the ground, creating a small storm of flying grass and dirt. _But not Harry._ _There's not even an ounce of clumsiness in him._

After a few daring stunts later, Harry seemed to take pity on Hermione and landed, dropping into an agile crouch. His cheeks were red from the wind and his eyes were sparkling, his lips pulled back in a wide grin to bare his sharp teeth. He looked radiant, so _alive_.

Hermione shook her finger at him, face pale and her nails almost bitten away. "Harry James Potter! Don't you ever scare me like that!"

Risking her wrath, Ron boomingly crowed "That was _awesome_, mate! Wicked! Think of what you can do in Quidditch! The teams will be fighting to get you!"

"I don't think Harry can play professionally," Hermione said in a dry voice, cutting Ron's excitement short. "I recall that having wings prohibits you taking part in any professional game."

"It wouldn't be fair for the other players," Harry grinned. "I think I can fly faster than any broom and be more agile. The game would be over in seconds."

"A bit cocky, aren't you?" Draco raised an eyebrow. "Shall we try this sometime, one against one? We still have that golden Snitch the Weasleys bought for your 18th birthday."

Harry's grin turned predatory. "You're on."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "You're like little boys again." She checked the time. "Come on. If we're going to walk to our house, we should get going so that you can return before dark."

Harry looked at her, a mischievous glint in his eyes that escaped Hermione's attention. "Well, if you're in a hurry," he sprang forwards and grabbed Hermione in a flash, firmly pulling her against his chest as he spread his wings wide, "then we should get a move on!"

She let out a long, shrilly scream as they tore off towards the sky, Harry's wings carrying both of them with ease. Draco and Ron stared after them for a minute, tracking Harry's wild manoeuvres with their eyes and listening to Hermione's shouted threats that always ended up in a scream.

"Well", Draco said. "It was nice knowing Harry and all, don't you think?"

Ron burst into laughter beside him.

"Blimey!" he guffawed. "Harry's sure going to need those wings now to escape Hermione after this."

Draco wiped a tear of silent laughter from his eye, his head feeling light. "You got that right."

"Come on, guys!" came Harry's yell over Hermione's most recent scream as Harry made a sudden dive. "Walk!"

"Hermione did tell us to hurry," Ron muttered, a lopsided grin still on his lips.

Draco agreed and they began the trek towards the Granger-Weasley residence, accompanied by Hermione's occasional shrieks and most colourful threats as they flew above Draco and Ron, twirling in the wind. It felt so wonderfully careless, so _happy_.

_I wish this moment could last forever._

Harry laughed high in the air, the sound full of mirth.

_But I know it won't._


	6. Nothing Lasts Forever

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Give Me Wings to Fly With

_**Summary**_: Having Harry Potter locked up as a dangerous beast, the Ministry shows no signs of gratitude for the Defeater of Voldemort. Until there is a new threat to be considered...

_**Warnings**_: Violence (perhaps even some gore), Cursing, Established Relationship (HPDM), Character Death

_**Disclaimer**_: Not mine but Rowling's.

**A/N: **Beta'd by the ever-talented and encouraging purpleraw.

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**Chapter VI – Nothing Lasts Forever**

_Beings of Magic: Volume III, Dark and Beautiful (ch. 17 p. 682) Valerius are magically very powerful which they use to their advantage when confronting an enemy. It has been measured that they possess the magical resources of possibly ten wizards of common magic levels. However, this only happens in serious battles since the Valerius are able to draw power from nearby wizards. They also have ways to control the air to create strong winds and even shake the earth if provoked. _

_Valerius have a peculiar defensive mechanism they also use to confuse the enemy. When interrupted or taken by surprise, Valerius can call the shadows to cover them. An unmoving Valerius engulfed in the shadows can go completely undetected but it has been noticed that Valerius also call the shadows to gather around them to create a bigger and more terrifying image of themselves. It's believed that this technique is used when a Valerius is unsure whether someone is a foe and only wants to scare them away. _

* * *

The room wasn't brightly lit but it wasn't disturbingly dark, either. Soft light came from the numerous candles placed around the room, the small flames charmed not to die. The orange light cast swaying shadows on the dark red walls, dancing figures that never halted. There was a large window, right in the middle of the dancers, covered with light beige curtains that shone like gold when hit by the light. When the curtains were pulled apart and the window was open, there was a beautiful view over the gardens.

There wasn't much furniture in the room. An old-looking four-poster stood in the corner, aloof, with its curtains neat and smooth. If one looked closer, they might detect the faint outlines of a lion embedded on the cloth. A desk was pushed against the wall, carved words and mindless doodles zigzagging across the ancient but well-polished wood. A massive chest of dark wood was resting underneath the desk, its bronze ornaments shining mildly.

The most prominent part of the room, however, was the set of three large portraits, made in Muggle style, that were hung on the wall just opposite the window as if the occupants of the portraits could enjoy the soothing view of the garden.

The portrait on the left was of a tall man in his twenties. He had mischievous, mirthful eyes that still held certain darkness just underneath, and a charming smile that was designed to swoon ladies and get out of trouble. He was outdoors in the painting, leaning against an oak, and his stance was relaxed and calm. A twist of his black eyebrow gave him an air of good-natured arrogance.

There was a young woman in the middle, her long auburn hair falling down her shoulders like a waterfall. Shorter strands of hair framed her pretty face, highlighting her knowing eyes and the gentle curl of her lips. She sat on a chair with her hands neatly folded in her lap, wearing a pale blue gown that was stunning in its simplicity. Though she seemed very calm and serene, there was a bright fire burning in her green eyes, fire of powerful self-confidence and courage.

And next to her, there was another man, the same age as the others. He was lounging on a sofa, but despite his slackened posture, one could tell the man radiated power and speed. His unruly hair was black as night, nearly covering his playfully glinting eyes that stared down on the viewer like he could see to your very soul.

Above the three paintings, all done with brilliant detail and rich colours, was a plain silver plate. On that plate, was written "Sirius Black, Lily Potter and James Potter. Dear friends, parents, sons and daughters. Gone but never forgotten for their courage and loyalty."

It was silent. The room, a memorial and a tribute to the three people in the paintings, was swallowed in humble silence.

Then there was a quiet creak of floorboards as Remus shifted his weight, heavily standing in the doorway and gazing into the room he had build. He looked down at the small photograph he held in his hand. There was a small baby boy in the photo, blinking innocently at the camera with a wide smile. A tuft of black hair was barely visible on top of his head. For a moment, Remus fiddled with the photo, smoothing out the wrinkles. Then, with a sad-sounding sigh, he padded into the room and pinned down the photo on the wall, between the narrow space of Lily and James' portrait.

He brushed a finger against the photo of Harry. He had gotten over the grievous losses of Harry's parents and was on his way with Sirius' untimely death, but it still hurt when he thought of Harry. Knowing that Harry was still alive, somewhere hidden deep inside the Ministry, locked in a cell, with no chance of getting out – it was somehow worse than if Harry were dead. He had heard of his sufferings from Draco, Ron and Hermione, the only people allowed to visit the "dangerous Dark Creature", and it had cut deep into his heart.

_Why can't they just leave him alone? Hasn't he done enough for us – he saved the world, and this is how the Ministry rewards him._

Remus shook his head, his hands balled into fists. He drew a shaky breath, trying to brush away the overwhelming feelings of bitter anger and fury. _He hasn't done anything to deserve to be locked away._ The wolf in him wanted to tear down the Ministry, to kill and maim everybody that had mistreated his cub.

Before the wolf could take over, Remus turned and walked away from the room, softly closing the door behind him. He rested there for a moment, leaning against the wall beside the door, gradually calming down. _The full moon is close. I better go check with Draco if he has a fresh batch of Wolfsbane ready._

Remus didn't know what he would've done without Draco and his expertise in Potions. When Severus became too busy with his own apothecary and still occasionally teaching at Hogwarts, Draco had stepped in and taken over with making the Wolfsbane for Remus. He had even tweaked the potion, modified it so that the transformation was completely painless, unlike Severus' version that couldn't quite remove all the painful sensations of having every bone in your body reshaped, and Remus was more himself in his wolf form, in control and tame. Harry had once joked that Draco had made Remus into a pet dog.

Walking through the Grimmauld Place, Remus saw his own handwork everywhere. He had spent the last year renovating the whole place and there was not one cobweb in sight, no dusty corners, no murky and mouldy wallpapers, no musty scent lingering in the air. It could be still recognized as the ancient house of the Blacks, but it held more majestic and more comfortable atmosphere.

_Harry would like it here now. He never quite enjoyed the house after Sirius' death. _

In the largest sitting room, there was a small ceramic pot at the mantel piece of the fireplace and Remus took a pinch of the powder in it. He threw the powder into the hearth and brilliant green flames burst out, almost towering over him. "Dragon Hill," he commanded the fire while stepping into the middle of the flames.

He spun and whirled around until he reached his location and stumbled out of the fireplace, absent-mindedly brushing away the ashes from his cloak. He looked around, quietly walking into the kitchen. Nothing but silence met him there. He glanced at the large bowl of fruits and berries on the table –_ odd, I don't recall Draco being a good friend of fruits_ – before checking the time. He had the urge to slap his forehead as he realized it was still very early in the morning – knowing Draco, he wouldn't be up for hours.

Contemplating whether he should just wait here, quietly reading a book or something, or return home and come back later, Remus scratched his subtly grown stubble, frowning at the kitchen table. Before he could make his decision, there was a soft swish of air that would have gone unnoticed if it weren't for his werewolf senses – Remus spun around, startled.

There was a dark shadow coming at him, fast and agile as a cat, and Remus gasped, reaching for his wand he had carelessly stuffed into his pocket. However, the shadow was upon him before he could raise the wand and Remus leaned back against the wall, too horror-stuck and shocked to even shout. Expecting something terrible to happen, Remus was more than confused when the shadow suddenly stopped, just inches from him – and sniffed.

Remus blinked.

The shadows withdrew, slowly slithering away like dark tendrils of a plant, until there was someone standing there, nose to nose with Remus. Large black eyes that bit by bit changed into green as Remus stared bore into him. Remus nearly forgot how to breathe and his eyes trailed to the left, over the person's shoulder, to see one pair of the midnight black wings, imposing in their size.

"Oh god," came a chocked whisper. "Remus. Remus!"

And the shadow-caller retreated a few steps, falling into a wary crouch with his wings drooping low to rest against the floor. _A non-threatening position,_ flashed in Remus' shocked mind. He took in the winged man in front of him, the ragged, black hair, the pale face, the brilliant green eyes that regarded him with the same shock and befuddlement he felt.

He couldn't believe it. "Harry?" he uttered, his voice hoarse. "Is it really... is it really you?"

And Harry it was, for he nodded and bit his bottom lip in a way that so painfully familiar for Remus. Throwing all questions and logic aside for a moment, Remus followed his instincts: he lunged forward and grabbed Harry into a rough embrace. Harry gave a small sound of surprise, his body stiff for a moment, but then he answered the hug and wrapped his arms tightly around Remus.

_Oh sweet mother of Merlin..._ Remus inhaled the scent of Harry, finding it pretty much the same he remembered – albeit a little darker, more powerful.

_My cub has come home._

Once Remus felt he had his emotions under control, he pulled away and held Harry at arm's length. "I missed you so much, Harry," he whispered, not trusting his voice to speak any louder. "I'm sorry I couldn't come and see you."

"Missed you, too." Harry watched him solemnly, something that resembled nervousness behind the shine of his eyes. "I know they didn't let you in, it's okay."

"Are you okay, are you hurt?" Remus quickly gave Harry a once-over, checking for any injuries. Harry smiled feebly.

"I'm fine," Harry assured him. "Draco's upstairs still sleeping. I woke up when you entered the house and kind of... I don't know, lost myself for a moment there. I didn't know who you were." Harry's sheepish smile showed off his teeth that were sharp and white. "Sorry."

Remus nodded, understanding. He knew how it felt to have something inside you take over, bypassing your mind and taking control.

"Harry... " Remus would have happily just watched Harry all day long, but he needed to know. "How did they let you out? Did Draco's Law-Wizards find a way or... ?" he trailed off, in hopes of having Harry finish the sentence. He was also just a little bit hurt that he hadn't been informed Harry was freed.

But instead of supplying a perfectly reasonable explanation, Harry bit his lip again and looked down. "I don't know," he said, sounding both lost and embarrassed. "I just... I remember the guards stunning me with some kind of potion and the next thing, I woke up here yesterday."

Remus stared, incredulous. "Who brought you here?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't know," he repeated. "I... Draco didn't tell me."

By now, Remus was beginning to feel more and more alert and suspicious. "Draco didn't tell you anything?"

"No. But he promised to tell me today," Harry quickly added to Draco's defence.

"Oh Harry... " Remus grimaced. "What if Draco did something illegal to get you out? Merlin, the Aurors could be here any moment now," he fretted, skittishly looking around. "They will come and take you away again. Oh god."

"I'm sure nothing like that happened, Remus, stop worrying." But not even Harry could hide the uncertainty in his voice.

Remus swallowed and let go of Harry's shoulders, noticing just now that Harry wore no shirt, just a pair of white pyjama bottoms. _Of course, with the wings it's quite hard to find a shirt that fits..._ Feeling distressed and somewhat disoriented, he briskly walked back to the fireplace.

"Potion Lair," he shouted to the flames, fear and worry gnawing at his belly like a herd of wild dogs. _I won't lose Harry again, now that he's finally back._ "Severus, can you hear me? Severus?"

A few terse moments passed before Severus' head appeared into the middle of the fireplace, an irate scowl plastered all over his face. His black eyes flashed in anger. "Merlin help me, Lupin. This better be a matter of life or death -"

His tirade was cut off and Remus knew he had noticed Harry, hovering just behind Remus.

"I see," was all that Severus finally said, his voice carefully blank. "May I came through?"

"Please." Remus stepped out of the way, Harry backing away with a suspicious glint in his eyes. He looked cautious and cagey, staring hard at the fireplace as Severus' spinning figure appeared and the Potions Master soon climbed out of it.

Remus laid an arm on Harry's bare arm. He sensed the Valerius' tensed muscles. "He's a friend, Harry. Nothing to be concerned of."

Harry let out a small hiss, sizing Severus up with his eyes for a moment, while Severus merely stood there, motionless. Then Harry relented, his agitated posture relaxing and his wings drooped down again. "Sorry," he offered with a slight smile. "Instincts."

Severus inclined his head. "Completely understandable." He took a look around. "And where is young Draco?"

"Still in bed, apparently," Remus said mildly. He already felt more calm in Severus' strict and nonsense-free presence. "I just got here, to ask him about the Wolfsbane, and I met Harry here. He doesn't know how he even got there, Draco hasn't told him anything. I fear that Draco has done something illegal and that Harry's freedom is at stake."

"I'm sure that's not the case," Harry tried again, his tone defensive. He had his arms crossed over his chest and though he looked angered, Remus saw him chewing on his bottom lip as a clear sign of uncertainty.

"At times, Draco does seem to think he is above the law we other mortals have to obey." Severus had his lips pursed tightly together, as if he didn't want to believe that Draco had done something suspicious. "But we should ask him instead of letting wild accusations fly like wildfire."

"Harry! There you are! Why – oh. " Everyone whirled around to see Draco standing in the doorway, a little spooked at encountering such audience in his kitchen. "Remus. Severus." His voice grew a little more disgruntled. "Do you have _any_ idea of what the time is?"

"A time for explanations, perhaps?" Severus silkily asked, one eyebrow quizzically raised. "You cannot blame us for being most curious to find out why there is a Valerius in your house."

"Don't speak about Harry like that," Draco snapped, his eyes cold as ice. "He's not just some thing."

Harry had stealthily slid forward to stand by Draco, a few inches in front of him. One wing rose protectively, almost curling around Draco from behind, and now he frowned at Draco's tone.

_He's protecting his mate, _Remus thought_. He sensed the distress in Draco's voice and is now confused because he doesn't see real threats anywhere._

Severus rubbed at his temples. "Merlin help me," he muttered in an undertone. Then he raised his gaze and sneered a little at the protective stance Harry held. "I am here to help you, you ungrateful brat. Would it kill you to just tell what is going on here? I'm quite certain Potter didn't just walk here by his own."

Draco risked a look at Harry, hesitant. Harry answered the gaze expectantly.

"Harry also deserves to know, Draco," Remus quietly said, and Draco gave a defeated sigh.

"Fine," he said shortly, taking Harry's hand. "Let's go to the lounge, shall we? I think you want to be sitting down for this."

Once they were all seated, Draco took out his wand. "We should start by this letter I received yesterday morning. _Accio_ letter from the Ministry!"

A piece of parchment flew into Draco's waiting hand. He gave it to everyone to read and sat back on the couch. _Let the party begin_, he thought. He watched Snape sneer at the letter, Remus blanch and Harry frown darkly.

_Oh joy._ He didn't look forward to explaining everything at all, oh no.

"So Kingsley himself brought Harry here," he began, gripping Harry's hand tight in his. "He told us – Ron and Hermione happened to be here when the letter arrived, so they stayed and waited – why, exactly, the Minister had decided to grant Harry freedom."

"Well?" Snape impatiently prompted with a growl when Draco paused, trying to find the right words.

In the end, he decided to be straightforward, not beating around the bush. "There is a new Dark Lord wannabe around," he said bluntly. "And the Ministry wants Harry to deal with him before things get too serious."

There was a stunned silence, and Draco felt Harry's hand slipping away.

"Excuse me?" Snape asked, incredulous. Remus just stared at Draco, seemingly unable to formulate any coherent sentences. "I must have misheard you."

Draco smiled crookedly. "So would you think." He didn't want to turn his head and see Harry's expression. It would be of bitter anger, seething, hopeless yearning for his complete freedom, he knew it. It would be an expression of betrayal. "But unfortunately, it's true."

"Who is it?" Remus finally managed to get out, his voice rough and grating.

"Theodore Nott," Draco told them. "And before you ask, no, I wasn't friends with him at school."

"Nott," Snape muttered disdainfully. He looked distant for a while, like he were reminiscing something. And judging by the scornful curl of his upper lip, it wasn't a pleasant memory. "I always knew that boy was not up to any good." Draco didn't have the heart (nor the courage) to point out that that was what Snape had said about Harry during the first six years of Hogwarts. "Always alone, was he?" He nodded to himself. "Distanced himself from the other Slytherins, yes. So what does he want, then? He disappeared from us for so long. Why come back now?"

And Draco shared everything he had learned from Kingsley, to Nott's devious plans and his vendetta he had against everyone with the status of a "normal wizard" to what the Ministry wanted to the fact that Kingsley was on their side like a boulder of rock.

Again, silence ensued. This time, however, it was Harry's turn to break it.

"Are they fucking serious?" he asked, his voice so icy and forbidding even Draco winced. Harry rarely used such strong language – only when he was very upset. "They imprison me for months, torture me, treat me like I was a rapid dog ready to put down – and now they expect me to _help_ them?" Rage made Harry's features distort and his voice was poisonous hissing. "Help them? Help the bigoted bloody fools who _deserve_ to be slain by Nott? Hell," he gave a harsh laugh, "I'd rather join Nott. He supports my kind. Not the Ministry," he spat out.

Dark shadows gathered around Harry, circling him. Draco grabbed Harry's hand again. "Harry, calm down. I know it isn't fair -"

"Isn't fair?" Harry snapped. "Oh it's far from fair, far as fucking possible! How dare they even ask me, after everything I've done." Dark spots swam in his eyes. "How _dare_ they."

"Stop overreacting!" Draco shouted, jabbing a finger at Harry's chest. "It's horrible, no-one denies it, but it's the only chance we have to keep you out of there!"

"You think I'm overreacting?" Harry shouted right back at him, agitatedly leaping to his feet. Draco followed suit. "Try living in a cage for half a year, being condemned as a monster – then say I'm overreacting!"

"And you will be going back to that cage unless you -"

"Unless I do what they tell me?" Harry finished coldly. "Unless I become the Ministry's good little puppet and pretend nothing bad ever happened?"

Draco felt so frustrated he nearly stamped his foot. "That's not what I meant, you git!"

"Then what did you mean, Draco? Do tell me, I'm dying to know!"

"I want us to do everything possible so that they will never put you away again!" Draco almost screamed, never noticing how Snape tugged a reluctant Remus out of the room towards the fireplace. "And if that means we will find Nott and either take him to custody or slap his ass all the way to Antarctic, so be it!"

"And you think the Ministry will just forget the reasons they had for imprisoning me?" Harry gave an ugly sneer, his canines flashing. "Once Nott is history, they will put me back to that cage in a flash. You can't trust them anymore!"

"Kingsley won't allow it," Draco hotly argued. "He will be the next Minister, he will set things right."

"Do you even realize how naïve you sound, Draco? I don't get it, it was me who used to be the immature one, the one who likes to see good of everyone. Not you."

Draco's eye twitched. "If we can't trust Kingsley, we can't trust anyone. Besides, if things go bad, we'll just go underground until the Ministry is cleared."

"It's so good you have these brilliant plans," Harry snorted. His wings flapped angrily. "How nice of you to share them with me. Maybe, _maybe_, you could've done it just a bit sooner!"

"What are you on about?" Draco scolded, crossed.

"Oh I don't know. Maybe I'm a just a bit miffed that I was kept in the dark!" Harry actually snarled and the shadows around him danced madly. "How could you _not_ tell me as soon as possible! You let me be ignorant all day yesterday -"

"I was allowing you to be ignorant because I didn't want you to suffer!" Draco yelled, his hands balled into fists so tight his nails almost drew blood. "Just one day of ignorant happiness, one day of having no responsibilities! One fucking day!"

And with that, he spun around and stormed away, noisily stomping the stairs up and headed towards the bedroom. He slammed the door closed with force that nearly cracked the frames and threw himself on the bed, still simmering with fury. Harry was so _stubborn_ it always made him want to scream out in pure frustration.

_For Merlin's sake... _He knew Harry had a point (the Ministry was _not_ trusted, after all), but still – _he didn't have to _shout_ at me_ _like that._

He ignored the fact that he had been the one yelling more louder, and turned his head to the side as he lay on the bed, listening. It was deathly quiet downstairs.

No hesitant steps moving up the stairs, no-one knocking on the door.

f_lashback – one year ago_

"_I don't like it, Harry. I don't like it at _all_."_

_Harry gave a long-suffering sigh. "You don't have to like it. _I_ don't like it, either."_

"_Then why do you have to go?" Draco crossed his arms, a slight pout in his bottom lip that he knew was hard for Harry to resist._

"_There's so much I can learn overseas. Stuff that I have no chance of learning here. Besides," Harry added, "the training programme is just for a few months."_

"_That's a few months too much!" Draco cried out. "I don't want you to go, Harry!"_

"_Well." Harry sported angry spots of red on his cheeks. "It's not like it's _your_ life, Draco! You can't decide where I go and where I don't. I'm not your _pet_."_

"_No," Draco snapped, "you're my bonded."_

"_Oh for fuck's sake, Draco, I'm not _leaving_ you!"_

_Draco sniffed, turning away. "It sure sounds like it."_

"_You're being childish again. It doesn't suit you very well."_

_Draco whirled back in a flash. "Oh I'm being childish? Me? Who's the one who tells his fiancé the day before he will be leaving to America for a stupid Auror training programme and won't be back until Christmas? The day before, Harry! You would be leaving tomorrow and you just told me!"_

"_It wasn't confirmed until today," Harry said, his tone stiff, and Draco snorted._

"_Yeah, right."_

"_It wasn't!" Harry cried out indignantly. "So now you're calling me a liar, too?"_

"_Oh maybe I am!" Draco pushed Harry away, nearly slamming the other one into the coffee table. "I just – I just want you to be safe, and you run away to another continent. You know Voldemort is on the move and you leave?"_

"_Then I should be safe, away from Britain, to learn the skills to defeat him."_

_Draco felt something hot prickling in his eyes. "But I won't be there with you. I'm not there to help you, to see you _are_ safe. I would wake up here, every morning, awaiting for the owl with the bad news."_

_Not wanting to hear Harry's response, Draco walked away quickly, all the way up to their bedroom where he closed the door firmly and lay down on the bed. He hugged Harry's pillow, willing the bitter tears to go away. _I won't cry, _he told himself_. This is not worth it_._

_After a few minutes, he heard soft footsteps padding closer, and the door was soon opened with a soft click. Draco turned his head to look at Harry with a sneer. "What?" he asked roughly. "Come to tell me you'll be leaving today instead of tomorrow?"_

_Harry came closer. "No," he said softly, sitting on the bed beside Draco. "I came to tell that I sent an owl to Kingsley. I told him I wouldn't take part in the programme."_

_Draco blinked. "What?"_

_Harry smiled gently. "I'm not leaving tomorrow." He stretched out on the bed and wrapped his arms around Draco, nuzzling his neck. "I'm not leaving at all. I'm sorry I made you so upset."_

"_Why?" Draco asked, his voice still a tad weak. He lay stiff in Harry's embrace, looking over his shoulder.._

"_Because I should leave you behind if I left," Harry breathed into his ear. "And I wouldn't see you for months. I would leave you here to fight Voldemort and his army alone." He shook his head. "I'm stupid for not realizing it sooner. I'm sorry, Draco. I should have discussed this with you earlier, but I didn't have the guts. Can you forgive me?"_

_At last, Draco relaxed in Harry's arms and his other had started to play with Harry's hair. He placed a gentle kiss on Harry's nose. "There's nothing to forgive."_

_end flashback_

Draco's head shot up as the door swung soundlessly open to reveal Harry standing in the doorway. "What do you want?"

Harry held a small piece of parchment in his hand. His face was avoid of any emotion. "This just came in," he said, his voice blank. "A message from Kingsley. There is another village under attack right now."

* * *


	7. Unleashed

_**Give Me Wings to Fly With**_

_**Summary**_: Having Harry Potter locked up as a dangerous beast, the Ministry shows no signs of gratitude for the Defeater of Voldemort. Until there is a new threat to be considered...

_**Warnings**_: Violence (perhaps even some gore), cursing, established relationship (HPDM)

_**Disclaimer**_: Not mine but Rowling's.

**A/N** In this chapter, there is a flashback with Draco fighting against the Death Eaters alongside Harry even though he wasn't in Auror training or anything like that. But would you expect Draco to stay home with his Potions kit while Harry was out risking his life? Besides, it was _war_. Everyone was needed in the battles (author's excuses for her laziness, bear with me)

Thanks Cam! And thank you for the reviews, you guys have so great plot lines I sometimes regret this story is already finished and thus, harder to change.

* * *

**Chapter VII – Unleashed**

Draco jumped up so fast he nearly fell over, tangled in the bedsheets. "What? An attack? Where?"

"A small village near Milton Keynes. There are coordinates in the letter." Harry glanced at the sheet of parchment. "I guess Kingsley wants us to go there."

"Attacking in broad daylight," Draco muttered, frantically searching for his clothes. He threw Harry a pair of black trousers. "Here, put those on. We don't have time to modify your shirts to fit your wings now."

He turned, fully dressed, to see Harry still standing there, clutching the trousers in his hands. "Harry?" he said, slowly. "You _are_ coming, right?"

"I don't know, Draco." Harry looked pinched. "I don't know if I'm ready -"

Draco grabbed his shoulders, shaking him a little. "Harry. You won't hurt anyone who doesn't deserve it. You aren't a danger, believe me!" He turned away and grabbed his wand from the bed. "Besides, _I'm_ going. You want me to go alone?"

A shadow passed Harry's face as he thought of that possibility, and he had changed into the black trousers before Draco could walk through the door. Not exchanging any words, they rushed outside, beyond the Apparation wards and Apparated away, according to the coordinates provided.

Fire was the first thing Draco's senses registered when they landed. The heat and crackling noises of fire, the screams that echoed in his ears – it reminded him so much of the war he nearly fell to his knees from the shock. Then he felt Harry's hand touch his in a worried gesture. "Draco?"

"I'm fine", he said, rather stiffly, and looked around, taking in the scene around them.

They were at the outskirts of a small village that seemed to consist of one main road that had small buildings on both sides – Draco could see a bank on fire, a pub completely demolished. Several houses were in shambles, just pieces of smouldering wood and stone left scattered on the ground. Hysterical Muggles were screaming everywhere, running and trying to find a place to hide. Some had barricaded themselves into houses, pale faces peeking out through the windows. _Like that could stop Nott and his misfits. _And as if someone had heard Draco's thoughts, there was a great blast and a house went up in towering flames, drowning any sounds of possible screaming with its loud crackling.

Bitter smoke filled the air like poisonous fog, making it impossible to take a deep breath without coughing. The smell of smoke was mixed with something else, something Draco faintly remembered being called as gasoline – the liquid Muggles used for their cars. Draco also remembered that gasoline was highly flammable, just as there was another explosion and a massive chunk of metal blew up like it was a mere toy care, shards of sharp glass and pieces of debris raining down on the running Muggles who tripped and fell down on the street like rag dolls.

Already, there were motionless bodies lying on the ground, flesh covered with mud and grime. A man had been thrown against a car and there were bits of glass and metal glistering around the bloodied corpse. Another Muggle was gruesomely impaled by a piece of metal fence going straight through his chest. Draco's eyes detected ripped off limbs, mutilated remains of people, puddles of blood everywhere he looked.

It was as if a homicidal tornado had gone through the village. Draco thanked the Merlin he didn't have a weak stomach anymore; otherwise, he would have been sick dozens of times already. But the war had taught him well. Blood was not something he wasn't accustomed to.

And in the middle of the screaming Muggles, there were snarling werewolves, their fur coated in blood, scruffy witches and wizards with maiming curses ready on their lips, bird-like creatures that Draco didn't even recognize, blood-thirsty vampires, all creating havoc for all that was worth. They seemed to have no mercy, no compassion – just rage and vindictive willingness to destroy.

"Merlin," Draco breathed, staring._ It's like the war again. But instead of Death Eaters, there are crazed magical creatures and those who won't ever fit in to the society, taking apart the world as we know it. _

Then, there was a series of loud cracks in the air. Kingsley, alongside with a handful of Aurors, appeared at the other side of the village, their red Auror cloaks whipping in the slight wind that had risen. Nott's small army noticed them right away and shouts of warning and cries of revenge rang in the air. Violent spells were fired amid the chaos of fire and snarling, jets of all colours destroying everything on their way.

"We should go and help them," Harry murmured, his voice so low Draco had difficulties hearing it over the noise of the raging battle in the village. Draco nodded and gripped his wand, hardening his mind for the upcoming fight. That had been his defensive mechanism in the war – focus just on the battle in hand, cold and distant. Quite the opposite of Harry, who had fought with passion, a part of him always suffering with every death blow he delivered.

_flashback – about two months before Voldemort was defeated_

_Draco smoothly stepped aside, avoiding the murky green curse shot at him. He gave an icy smirk at the Death Eater and flicked his wand once, uttering a curse. The Death Eater hastily raised a silvery shield that didn't hold – Draco's curse sliced straight through it like a knife though melted butter and the Death Eater went down._

_Draco smiled in cold satisfaction and turned to his next opponent, swiftly and effectively forming a shield of his own to block the incoming curse. He held the shield for a second, then dropped it in one, graceful movement and struck back. The Death Eater avoided his attack by throwing himself to the side and Draco was forced to retreat, two new Death Eaters stepping in._

The more the merrier, that's what they say.

_He brought his wand down and multiple curses burst out, flying towards the Death Eaters – blood exploded from the quickly appearing gashes and the Death Eaters screamed. Calmly, Draco wiped away the red liquid that had stained his robes and looked over his shoulder. _

_Harry was fighting nearby, his face set in fierce determination as he rolled on the ground to dodge curses. He rose to one knee, shouting out a curse that sent out a volley of flaming balls of fire, a snarl on his lips. Jumping up, he shot a curse at another Death Eater while physically grabbing another one that was aiming their wand against Weasley. Harry kicked, his legwork fast and strong, and the Death Eater fell with a wounded cry. _

"_Draco, behind you!" came a shout from somewhere and Draco cursed, whirling around. He narrowly warded off the Blasting Curse and glared at the Death Eater who dared to _grin_ at him. Draco spun his wand in circular motion over his head to collect power, then stabbed the wand towards the Death Eater. Yellow tendrils of pure magic gushed out, entwining around the hapless Death Eater. Ignoring the shrill screams of the Death Eater as the magic burned them from the inside out, Draco turned away with both his head and shield raised high._

_Harry came jogging at him, a trickle of blood running down his neck. He looked tired but relentless, the grip on his wand vehement. "Hey," he said, a little breathless. "You okay?"_

_Draco allowed a tiny smile. "I'm always okay, Harry."_

"_Greyback is here." _

_Sharply, Draco looked at the direction Harry was pointing at. Indeed, he could see the bulky werewolf in the distance, his long and sharp fingernails viscous as he tore his way through the Aurors and other fighters. He glanced back at Harry. "You want to take him down?"_

_Harry's lips tightened. "He's a killer," he said, as a justification. "He'll maim and kill others."_

_Knowing Harry wouldn't attack without a valid reason, Draco gave a curt nod. "Let's go, then." _

_And off they went, side to side, fighting their way to where Greyback was. Draco dealt with the defence, his spells and shields smooth and precise, while Harry handled most of the assaulting – his powerful and imaginative spells wiped their path clear from the Death Eaters in no time. _

He may not like destroying the Death Eaters, but he's damn good at it, _Draco thought._

"_Fenrir!" Harry shouted out as they neared their target and the werewolf looked up. Greyback broke into a one-sided grin when he saw them, showing a mouthful of bloodied, sharp teeth. His ragged beard was matted with blood, as was his tangled mass of grey hair. Draco felt a strong bolt of hatred towards the werewolf. He had been the one who had had his hands – or claws – in killing Dumbledore a few years back, as well as many other wizards Draco had known. _A filthy creature, that's what he is.

"_Littlest Potter," jeered Greyback in a crooning voice. His black eyes flickered to Draco. "And his blonde little snake. How nice of you to drop by."_

_Harry bared his teeth, his wand raised. "I can't let you kill people anymore, Fenrir."_

_Greyback laughed, a horrible sound that grated on Draco's ears. "Maybe it is you, little Potter, who will die tonight."_

_And without any more waning, the werewolf launched himself at them with terrifying speed, his mouth wide open and claws at the ready. With their quick, Seeker-honed reflexes, both Harry and Draco managed to throw themselves away from his destructive path and Greyback's jaws encountered nothing but air. _

_Harry recovered fast, his wand held high as he leapt to his feet. "Stupefy!" _

_Greyback laughed again, mockingly, sidestepping the spell with surprising agility. "You should try something better than that, little one!"_

_Draco sent another curse at the rapid werewolf, a darker one than Harry had used. Greyback gave a high-pitched yelp, like a dog's, as the flesh in his left arm became raw and red, as if it had been cooked in boiling water. But his mad grin didn't waver and neither did his strength, apparently. With a growl, he sprang towards Draco and knocked the blonde wizard down on the ground. He had Draco pinned in seconds._

_Saliva dripped onto his face and Greyback's hot breath stank of rotten meat as Draco struggled to keep Greyback's snapping jaws away from his skin, utter disgust and pricking fear surging in his mind. He strained his hands against the werewolf's chest, turning his head away to get a breath of fresh air -then Greyback let out a muffled yip, his eyes grotesquely bulging out, and he slumped down like a piece of meat. _

_With a revolted "ugh", Draco pushed the dead weight off him, and scrambled to his feet, wand at the ready. Harry stood rigidly over the collapsed form of Greyback and in his hand, Draco saw a long dagger, a fresh coating of blood trailing down from the dragger to the ground. _

"_Well done," Draco whispered into Harry's ear, squeezing his shoulder. "You did the right thing."_

_Harry looked up, both nausea and triumph in his eyes. He gave a weak smile, swallowing. "I know," he said, his voice rough. Emotions danced on his face and Draco was sorely tempted to tease him about his Gryffindorish transparency. But they had no time as a daring Death Eater decided to pay them a visit._

"_No rest for the wicked, huh?" Harry suddenly grinned and swooped back to the battle with a loud war cry. Draco shook his head in dry amusement and followed suit, in a more subtle and cool-headed way. _

_end flashback_

As Harry and Draco neared the heart of the village, the misfits, as Draco had them dubbed in his mind, took notice of them. Some seemed a little confused at sight of Harry, with his wings and all, but as soon as Draco fired off the first offensive spells, they snarled and attacked. A large werewolf with murky brown fur, tangled from mud and blood, bounded towards them first, its mighty jaws ready to give the fatal bite that cut through muscle and bone like water.

_I hate rapid werewolves,_ Draco thought moodily, watching the animal approach with its yellow eyes glowing with mindless bloodlust. _Especially when they use a potion to change into that form even without the help of the moon_.

Raising his wand, Draco prepared to deal with the werewolf with one, simple curse that would get rid of it in a flash. Just as he was whipping down his wand to deliver the curse, the earth suddenly shook as a massive explosion took place in the nearest house, blowing it up as if it had never existed before. The violent trembling of the ground beneath him caused Draco to stagger as he wildly tried to regain his abruptly lost footing. His focus completely off, Draco was caught by surprise as the werewolf was upon him in seconds, the animal's stinging breath on his face.

But just as quickly the wolf has leapt on him, it was ripped off as if some invisible wind had blown it away. Draco gaped as he stared at the fearsome creature that rigidly stood in the werewolf's place, for a moment not even recognizing Harry.

_Dear Merlin._

Harry had his wings fanned out, slightly inwards curled. Looking like a vengeful angel, he stood in a half-crouch, legs spread out for a firmer position. Dark shadows played around his bare upper body, dancing and slithering like a herd of wild snakes, making Harry look bulkier than he was.

The most intimidating part, however, was his face. It seemed distorted in its fury, just as dark and forbidding as the shadows fluttering around him, and his eyes were pitch-black, a spark of pure rage in them. His lips were pulled apart in a savage snarl, a row of razor-sharp teeth revealed as an extreme threat, and he spat out hissed words that suspiciously sounded like Parseltoungue. A gust of wind around him whipped at his hair and wings.

And as Harry stood over him, growling, Draco shivered. _He's protecting his mate._

For the first time, Draco felt a little afraid. Not for himself, of course, but for the ones around him. "Harry?" he whispered, trying to get up. A fierce wind, however, came out of nowhere and gently pressed him against the ground, making it unable for him to raise to his feet. He was forced to lay there, protected by the wind, and watch as Harry jumped over him with a powerful flap of his wings, landing straight in the middle of misfits.

They had no chance whatsoever.

Harry, with a horrendous cry, brought his hands together with force, like he were about to clap. Instead of applauses, though, there was a high-pitched noise that ended on a low note, just like the noise a fast train does when it passes, and a blast of magic so powerful it cleared the area all around Harry erupted from his hands. Vampires and other misfits were tossed aside like toys, landing several feet away. They didn't get up anymore.

Screams broke out and misfits galloped towards Harry, determined to bring him down. A vampire leaped at the Valerius, its fangs bared, but Harry barely flicked his hand and the creature fell down in the middle of the jump, never rising again. A pair of wizards, massive in their stature, abandoned magic and attempted to grab Harry from behind, greedy hands viciously tugging at his wings. Harry gave an inhumane screech, whirling around so fast the men tripped over their own feet, and Draco almost chuckled at the look of dismay on their faces as Harry snarled at them.

Almost.

Hoisting the men up from their collars, Harry rocketed into the air like an arrow, effortlessly dragging the two beefy men with him. Several yards high, he swung his arms and the men flew screaming through the air until gravity did its trick. Draco doubted there was anything left from the men.

Easily avoiding a stream of curses shot at him, Harry landed with the usual grace of a hunting feline. This time, the misfits had gathered their remaining troops – Draco noticed the Aurors were just standing by, staring at Harry with wide eyes behind Kingsley's commanding form – and attacked Harry together, a swarm of werewolves, vampires, wizards and everything between, furiously trying to overpower him. Harry let out a shrill scream of rage again, spinning around in his place a few times, his strong wings knocking aside the nearest misfits. Then he raised his fists high, his face set in a fierce snarl as he raised a few feet above the ground before surging back down – Draco saw him slamming his fists into the ground and a small earthquake shook the ground, wild magic flaring up again in dark tendrils that burst through the earth, grabbing misfits left and right and slamming them back into the ground so hard Draco could hear the wet smacks and cracks as flesh was turned into bloody pulp and bone was simply pulverised.

Then, it was deathly quiet. Even the Muggles, or what was left of them, were quiet. No-one was moving around, save for a couple of misfits who had somehow survived Harry's trashing and were trying to crawl away. Harry waved his hand in a large circle and the misfits were suddenly bound in thick ropes from head to toe.

None of the Aurors were hurt. None of the Muggles had been injured by Harry's magic. It was just the misfits. For a short second, Draco felt like applauding. The wind holding him in place suddenly relented, and Draco shot to his feet, wasting no time in running over to Harry. The Valerius was standing in the middle of dead misfits, head and wings bowed in what seemed like great fatigue, not a smear of blood anywhere on his skin. His chest was heaving, his shoulders quivering.

"Harry?" Draco said in a whisper, not taking his eyes off Harry. He gently touched Harry's shoulder and he felt alarmingly hot skin under his hand, as if there were a fire burning just underneath Harry's skin. But as Draco's hold tightened, the feeling of intense warmth started to cool off, little by little. Harry's head turned and Draco was rewarded with the sight of dark green eyes – dark, but still green. "Harry, baby, are you okay? That was quite a fight you did."

Harry responded by grabbing Draco into his arms, his wings wrapping around them like a soft, protective blanket. He nuzzled Draco's neck, inhaling deep and long. "They almost hurt you. That wolf. I got so angry", he spoke with disjointed sentences, as if speaking coherently was still too difficult for him. Draco could feel his heart thundering in his chest.

"I'm okay," Draco murmured soothingly, his arms sneaking around Harry's waist. "I'm safe."

Through the gaps in Harry's feathers, Draco saw the Aurors still standing by, not even trying to approach Harry. Draco thought he detected a glimpse of red hair on one of the Aurors, staying back. Kingsley was ordering his people to gather up the few alive misfits while some were starting to put out the fires, rescuing any Muggles they could see in the ruins of the village. As Draco watched, Kingsley spared them a glance. The Head Auror nodded with a grim smile, signing they should go home before anyone else arrived at the scene. The Aurors were under Kingsley's control, but he couldn't vouch for others.

"Let's go home, baby," Draco whispered, holding tight as Harry Disapparated in a flurry of wings and fluttering clothes.

No-one noticed the pair of calculating eyes watching their every move, safely from the distance.

To Draco's mild surprise, they arrived straight into their bedroom, inside the wards that were meant to prevent Apparation. _Well. After Harry's show, I'm not surprised by anything anymore_.

Together, they fell on the bed in a tangled mess of feathers all around them. Harry's eyelashes fluttered in his exhaustion and he weakly kicked off his trousers, pulling Draco on top of him and holding him there, sniffing at his hair in a way of calming down. Draco hummed, trailing idle circles on Harry's smooth chest with his finger.

"Almost lost you," Harry mumbled into his hair. Draco lifted his head and gave him a tender butterfly kiss.

"Not even close." Draco smiled at the purr rumbling in Harry's chest. "It was just a werewolf. We've dealt those before, remember?"

"Unfortunately."

Draco went back to doodling on Harry's skin, his fingers serving as his pencils. He imagined drawing a lion of the Gryffindor with a snake curled around it.

"I didn't harm any Aurors or Muggles, did I?"

"No, you didn't." Draco's fingers dipped lower, on Harry's abdomen, where the tail of the snake would be. "Just the misfits. And they fully deserved what they got. I imagine they managed to kill quite a lot of those villagers."

"I'm surprised the Aurors didn't arrest me." Harry shivered under Draco's soft touch.

"I told you; Kingsley has our backs covered."

Harry's back arched a little as Draco trailed down onto his inner thigh. "I'm – I'm sorry about the earlier," he whispered. "I was a prat, yelling at you like that. It isn't your fault the Ministry is being so horrible. I'm sorry."

Draco looked up, a smile on his lips. He reached out to place a gentle peck on Harry's nose. "Oh baby, there's nothing to forgive. I shouldn't have yelled, either."

He kissed Harry on the lips, savouring the taste. He shifted his leg, intentionally brushing against Harry's groin and the Valerius groaned into his mouth, a sound of utter pleasure. Draco smirked lazily, allowing his hand to droop lower again, the tips of his fingers barely touching. Harry's back arched again as he pushed back into Draco's ghostly touch, a moan escaping his lips. "Draco... " he hissed.

"I'm right here," Draco whispered in a low tone. "I'm right here, baby."

He felt soft feathers against his back as the wings closed down on them again, and they were swallowed by the warm darkness.

The next morning, Draco woke up first for once. It was very early morning – which was quite understandable since they had fallen asleep in the afternoon yesterday.

He was cuddled in Harry's arms that were loosely curled around him, and Harry used his chest as a pillow, his black hair spilling all over Draco's pale flesh. Puffs of warm air tickled Draco's chest as Harry breathed in his sleep, quiet and content. His face was turned towards Draco as he lay there and with his eyes closed and his muscles completely relaxed, he looked exactly like the old Harry, the signs of wildness and wariness smoothed out by sleep.

But Draco wasn't fooled. He would remember the events from yesterday till he died. Playing with a strand of Harry's hair, he gave a sad little smile. He mourned the loss of the old Harry, but welcomed this new Harry with open arms nevertheless. They were, after all, the same person, a mix of two personalities that both deserved Draco's unconditional love.

_Don't you worry, Harry. You'll be okay._

Draco placed a gentle hand on Harry's cheek, fanning out his fingers.

_We'll be okay._

* * *

He shifted, carefully pushing with his arm and the wings draped over them like a living blanket fell away with a barely audible swish. Harry twitched, his eyes slowly opening to reveal a sleepy shade of green. "Hey," Draco said softly. "Want to go down for some breakfast?"

Harry yawned, his arms retreating away from around Draco as he stretched like a large cat on the bed, lithe muscles rippling. His wings shuffled, gathering behind Harry into their normal position as he rose to his feet and grabbed a pair of loose-fitting trousers from the closet. Draco glanced down at himself, at the boxers he was wearing, and shrugged. He always looked gorgeous, no matter what he wore, so why bother changing? And judging by the sideways glance, Harry didn't mind either.

"Did you sleep well?" Draco asked once they were in the kitchen that was filled with warm light from the bright morning-sun.

Harry, picking apart the peaches in the bowl to find the most ripe one, looked up with a raised eyebrow, a lopsided grin twisting his lips. "Yes, I did indeed. After you wore me out."

Draco snorted and carried a small basket of bread to the table. "What I meant," he said, buttering a roll for himself, "that are you still feeling the effects of the magical drain from the battle? That was some serious shit, Harry."

His eyes downcast, Harry sliced a peach into neat little pieces. "I feel fine." Still not meeting Draco's eyes, he snapped his fingers and a pitcher of ice tea came floating from the fridge. "See? My magic is fine, too."

Frowning at Harry's mild tone, Draco put the roll back onto the table. "Are you still angry at me?"

Harry's eyes snapped to him for a fleeting moment before they were lowered again. "I'm not angry at _you_, Draco. I'm angry at myself."

"Why?" Draco asked, honestly confused.

Harry sighed wearily. He stared at the sliced peach in front of him as if the fruit would give him all the answers he needed. "I couldn't control myself yesterday," he finally said, his voice strained. "I just... I attacked them without thinking. I saw the werewolf coming at you and I just.... " he shrugged. "I snapped."

"And that makes you angry?" Draco gave a small sigh of his own. "Oh Harry, sweetie. No-one is blaming you for anything. And you know why? Because you saved me, Harry. You protected not just me, but the Aurors as well. Without your help, some of the Aurors might have been killed or seriously injured." Harry was still staring down, and feeling a twinge of annoyance, Draco snapped, "Look at me, Harry."

Reluctantly, Harry looked up and met Draco's eyes. There was guilt and self-hatred swimming in his eyes, marring the green like ugly dots of grey. Draco took his hand into his own. "This, Harry, is a sign of your humanity. You feel guilty at attacking the misfits – but they _were_ the enemy, Harry. They would have killed you, or me, or the Aurors without blinking. They wouldn't have felt any remorse, like you do now. And you know why?" Draco leaned closer, giving Harry's cheek a soft caress. "Because you're a better person they are. Believe me, Harry, you did the right thing yesterday."

There was a small pause. "And I guess the Ministry wants me to continue 'doing the right thing'", Harry murmured with resignation in his tone.

Draco kissed him gently. "I'm afraid so," he whispered. "But I'm here for you. I'll always be here for you."

Harry's response was interrupted by a screech of an owl. Slightly startled, Draco looked towards the window, and sure enough, there was a barn owl waiting behind the glass, irksomely glaring into the kitchen. The bird let out another loud screech.

"I'm _coming_," Draco snapped, walking to the window and slamming it open. "What do you have?"

The owl looked at him disdainfully and offered its feet with an agitated hoot. In its claws, there was the early morning edition of the Daily Prophet and Draco took it, paying the owl from the small case of coins he kept beside the window. "Bloody delivery owls," he muttered, turning away from the window with the paper clutched in his hand. "Just as moody as the Ministry owls."

"Draco." Harry was looking at him, his lips pinched. "Look at the headline."

Obediently, Draco splayed the paper open against the kitchen table and took one look at the front page.

_The previously incarcerated Harry Potter sighted - took part in a bloody skirmish in Eastern England! _

"Well," Draco said calmly, turning the pages to reach the whole story. "The public would have found out sooner or later."

"I would have preferred not to be found out in the middle of a battle, quite frankly," Harry dryly remarked. "What does it say? "Madman Potter slays all" ? "

Draco shot him a narrow-eyed look. "Of course not, you git. Let's see... _A Ministry official who wishes to remain unnamed, reveals that Harry Potter, the defeater of You-Know-Who, has indeed been seen outside the Ministry where Mr. Potter has been confined for his own safety for the past months_..." Draco snorted with contempt. "Yeah, right. For your own safety." He went on reading, _"Mr. Potter, as we all know, is a victim of a dark curse and has been reborn as a Valerius, a dangerous and magically powerful magical creature_... blah, blah, blah... _there was a conflict between an Auror squad and a group of remaining Death Eaters_... Bloody hell, don't they _realize_ there aren't any Death Eaters left?"

"If the public doesn't want to realize it," Harry said softly, "then they won't. It's like with Voldemort; they want to live in ignorance rather than face the truth. It's easier that way." His voice took a wistful tone, as if he had himself wanted to be that ignorant one, living in the blissful dark.

Draco completely understood him.

"_It was confirmed Mr. Potter was present at the battle and is single-handedly responsible for a very large death toll... however, there were no casualties among the Aurors or civilians._.. Well, no casualties among the Muggles by _you_, at least." Draco smoothed out the paper that was beginning to wrinkle in his tight hold. "They're describing your powers pretty vaguely; flying, tossing people around, pretty much shooting out bolts of magic out of your arse and such."

"Sounds rather familiar," Harry wryly commented with a crooked grin that didn't quite reach his eyes. But he was trying, really trying to be an optimist, and Draco appreciated the effort.

"_It seems that Mr. Potter is not the sweet young man we knew before the destruction of You-Know-Who, but it remains unknown whether he's a threat to the Wizarding world. We at the Daily Prophet tried to reach his fiancé, Draco Malfoy, who was also sighted in the battle, and the Minister himself to get more information on why and how was Mr. Potter released, but to no avail._" Draco sneered. "Funny, I think I would have noticed if someone tried to contact me. Not that I would tell them a thing, of course."

"It doesn't look very good for the Minister, does it?" Harry gazed at the newspaper. There was a large picture of him in his full Auror gear on the cover, probably taken just months before it all went to hell. "All this secrecy and sugarcoating. The public will catch on soon."

Draco folded the newspaper, casting it aside with a careless flick. "I sure hope so. And then they're ready to receive a new Minister. A leader they can trust to make things right."

A soft hoot interrupted them again, accompanied by a questioning knock against glass. "Hedwig!" Harry all but exclaimed, jumping up and rushing to the window. The snowy owl hopped inside, a letter clutched in its beak, and it hooted again, the sounds muffled because of the letter.

"Hey, girl." Harry stroked Hedwig's feathers, and if owls could smile, Hedwig would have most definitely grinned widely. Then it gave another hoot, reproachful this time. Harry nodded, as if he understood. "I haven't seen you for months, I know. I'm sorry."

"She's been staying with Ron and Hermione for the past few weeks," Draco said, a little ashamed at how he had almost forgotten Harry's owl. "I haven't exactly been the best pet caretaker lately."

"I'm sure she didn't mind. I think she has a crush on Hermione's Alfred." Draco stared at Hedwig, trying to imagine the owl lovestruck, daydreaming over Hermione's hawk owl that was named after some famous Muggle author. "What do you have me there, girl?"

Harry took the small scroll and opened it, his eyes glancing through the letter. "It's from Ron and Hermione. They've read the Prophet, too."

"What are they saying?"

"That they don't know who leaked the information to the papers and so on. Oh, and Hermione's attached a postscript." Harry leaned closer to see the apparently smaller writing. "She says that they will break through the wards of the house unless we let them now we're okay, at once."

Draco rolled his eyes. But he knew Hermione wouldn't give out empty threats, so he strode over the fireplace to relay a message of their well-being. As he crouched over the emerald flames, he didn't see the second owl that fluttered to a stop in front of Harry. He also didn't see the content of the letter the owl carried, the letter Harry crushed in his fist, small flickering sparks turning the parchment into ashes. The letter with the official Ministry stamps.

_Potter, _

_good job so far. Keep going or suffer the consequences. You wouldn't want something to happen to a certain Malfoy, would you?_

* * *


	8. Monster to Monster

_**Give Me Wings to Fly With**_

_**Summary**_: Having Harry Potter locked up as a dangerous beast, the Ministry shows no signs of gratitude for the Defeater of Voldemort. Until there is a new threat to be considered...

_**Warnings**_: Violence (perhaps even some gore), Cursing, Established Relationship (HPDM), Character Death

_**Disclaimer**_: Not mine but Rowling's.

**A/N: **Note that despite in this story I ignore most of the events from books six and seven, Bill still bores the scars from Greyback's attack.

Thanks, Cam, for betaing, and all you readers for reviewing!

* * *

**Chapter VIII – Monster to Monster**

A crack of wood splitting under a heavy paw.

The hum of wind in the air, ruffling the leaves on the trees.

The soft murmur of a small creek, running among a collection of sturdy rocks peeking through the wildly swaying grass.

The hoot of an owl that echoed in the darkness.

In the middle of the darkest woods, where one would think no human could inhabit the wild land, there was a vast camp of numerous dwellings in all sizes and conditions, blending in with the nature. A shred of camouflaged tarpaulin, tightly pinned between two stout spruces. A tiny tipi-like hut made of young, supple alders and large ferns. Roughly built lean-tos, some bordering on collapsing, some with brand-new, freshly logged trees, rigorously pulled together with stringy ropes. Small tents, most of them dirty and worn with age, were scattered over the flattest parts of the ground.

All the abodes were connected with trodden pathways zigzagging across the camp, making it easy to make one's way through the thick shrubs, the knee-high grass and ferns and the damp moss. A narrow creek slithered around the huts and tents, widening at the edge of the camp into a small pond of clear water. A wooden rack stood at the pond in where chunks of meat hanged from the hooks placed at the top, from smaller slices to a whole deer that had not yet been skinned. Various pots and pans dotted the trampled ground, with a collection of huge knives that had been stabbed into the wood of the rack for safe-keeping.

Modest camp fires and occasional torches lit the area with their soft, flickering light. Just bright enough for the inhabitants to walk around without stumbling over the closest stone, but dark enough not to lit up the whole sky. Not that the careful wards surrounding the camp would allow any light to be seen, and not that anyone would actually trek through the nearly forgotten part of the forest in search of life.

People were slouching around the fires, chatting softly, some grilling pieces of meat that had been speared by long, sharpened sticks. Part of the campers looked like common people, dressed in warm cloaks and robes to protect themselves from the chilly night, but there were also pale vampires in their blood-red cloaks and yellow-eyed werewolves with distinct marks of living outdoors on them. Some bore the signs of being half-and-half, constant bitterness in their eyes for not being accepted by the general population. Other figures were shown here and there, some keeping to themselves, just like the few full-blooded Veela gathered in one tent.

Quite a many of the dwellings were suspiciously empty, the occupants never to return.

There were massive boulders of rock, partially covered by moss and other wild plants, near the pond that marked the end of the camp. Between two boulders, both easily over 12 feet tall, there was a wide crack that narrowed down after awhile, creating a cave-like illusion. Pieces of tarpaulin over thick twigs gave the cave a roof where the two boulders didn't touch each other and the ground between those boulders was dark soil, tightly-packed and hard from being trampled on. If one squinted, they could detect a structure in the depths of the cave that resembled a bed, made of short logs and branches. A mattress and simple blankets were strewn across it.

At the entrance of the broad rift, a hefty tree had fallen, the trunk serving as a forbidding fence for the cave. In front of the tree, a bright camp fire burned and crackled, surrounded by smooth pebbles to keep the flames from spreading.

Two men sat around the fire, on large stones, roughly shaped like stools. The other one, his back resting against the trunk of the fallen tree, was lightly built and of average height. His hair, long enough to reach his chin, was dark brown, spilling into his pale blue eyes that had cold fire burning deep inside them. His narrow face had a hard edge to it, making him look like he was ready to do anything to reach his goals.

The second man was considerably taller and bulkier, muscles bulging in his arms as he reached out to poke the fire with a long twig . He had dirty blond hair, unevenly chopped into short, ragged strands and his eyes were light brown with an unmistakeable golden hue. Small scars ran across his weather-beaten face.

Both wore thick, warm cloaks as they huddled around the fire, conversing.

"I don't know, Theo," said the larger man, his voice deep and scratchy. "I don't think he would agree with our ways."

"You're my second in command," snapped Nott, his eyes glinting like icy sapphires. "You're not here to _think_, Daniel."

Daniel shrugged carelessly, not looking particularly chastened by Nott's scathing tone. He kept on picking at the fire, the light from the fire reflecting in his golden eyes. "Whatever you say, boss."

Nott was silent for a moment as he gazed down at the newspaper he held in his hand. The picture of Potter on the cover gave him a light smile, but his eyes were cold and wary. "He was severely mistreated by the Ministry," he finally said. "He's bound to feel heavy animosity towards it, towards all the people who condemned him with a snap of their fingers." He tossed the newspaper, read and inspected dozens of times, into the hungry flames where it was turned into ashes in seconds. "I remember him being quite against the Ministry when we were at school already."

"Before you dropped out?"

Nott's eyes flashed and the flames surged up, nearly scorching Daniel's eyebrows in the process. "Don't start with that tone, Daniel."

Daniel raised his hands in surrender, his brief grin displaying a mouthful of wolfish teeth as he patted around his forehead, feeling for his eyebrows. "Couldn't resist, sorry. So, you're sure Potter is not just some Ministry's puppet?"

"He could be," Nott allowed with a frown. "But not a willing puppet. No. I heard, from a very reliable source, that there is no way Harry Potter would side with the Ministry anymore. From what I gathered, they kept him in a cage, practically torturing him the whole time he was in there."

Daniel's eyes darkened and he nodded in understanding. "Okay, so he isn't idolizing the Ministry. But he _did_ slaughter one of our troops. Doesn't that tell you he's against us, as well?"

"He was just protecting his mate," Nott murmured. Coldness seeped into his tone as he went on, "Draco Malfoy was there. He was protecting that albino freak."

"But he didn't attack the Aurors," Daniel mildly reminded.

"They were obviously advised not to act aggressively. Potter didn't see them as a threat, like he did with our troop. If they had even tried to lift their wands... " A somewhat dreamy expression flickered across Nott's face. "You should have seen his powers, Daniel. It was amazing."

Daniel gave an amused snort. "So you've told me. It's funny how you can sound so awed when you're talking about a man who destroyed one whole troop of our fighters."

Nott's eyes snapped back to focus. "I mourn for their sacrifices, but this is the beginning of a war. Do you expect all of us to escape unscathed once this is over and the Ministry has fallen?"

Daniel held Nott's sharp gaze for a second before lowering his eyes. "No," he said, his voice low. "I don't."

"Good. Because that's not going to happen. There will be casualties and there's nothing we can do to stop it."

A quiet moment ensued, both of them staring into the fire.

"So what's so special about Potter?" Daniel suddenly spoke up, a frown on his tanned face. "I mean, yeah, he's the Boy-Who-Lived and all that crap, but what else?"

"He has so much power I can't even start describing it." Nott's voice was soft and enthralling. "He would be a valuable asset to our cause – everybody knows him. He has political power, magical power, physical power. Everything, in one package. People would throw themselves either away from his way or straight at his feet, crawling."

"He's dating that Malfoy, right? Do you think he would follow Potter to our side?"

Nott snorted scornfully. "He became such an annoying goodie-two-shoes I really doubt it." He shook his head. "Sad, really, how he changed from a proud pureblood into Potter's bitch."

"But Valerius are unpredictable without their mates or packs, you said it yourself." Daniel flicked a spark off of his leather trousers before they caught fire. "How do you plan controlling Potter so that he won't turn on you? He could demolish this whole camp in a flash, you know."

Nott's lips twisted into an unpleasant smile. "I have my ways, Daniel. Trust me."

"I wouldn't be here if I didn't."

"And that, my dear Daniel, is why I made you into my second in command. Now, tell me. How did everybody react to the loss of the troop?"

Daniel turned a little, glancing towards the heart of the camp. Shadowy forms still sat around the fires, but some had already retreated to their respective huts and tents. A howl of a wolf rang in the air and a large owl took flight from a nearby tree, gliding into the darkness like the soundless killer it was. "They were rather upset, naturally, but it's nothing they can't get over with. The wolves lost Ciaran."

"Were you close to him?"

Daniel shrugged. "He was a good man, ready to do what was needed of him. I heard from others that he attacked Malfoy?"

"He did," Nott confirmed with a nod. "A couregious act."

"I heard there were prisoners, as well?"

"Adolph and Beth. Potter merely injured them and tossed them into the Aurors' feet. But they won't tell a thing, they're loyal."

Daniel looked somewhat doubtful but nodded in agreement nevertheless. A howl, deep and pained, resounded from the woods again and Nott looked up. "It's full moon soon. Are there any new wolves?"

"A couple." A hint of worry ghosted over Daniel's features. "But they're young and strong, they'll survive. After this moon, I'll give them the potion that'll allow them to transform whenever they want to."

Nott smiled faintly. "Good, good. Like they say, one should get them young so that they can be trained."

"I guess that's why you haven't tried to recruit that Potter's werewolf friend."

"Precisely. You can't teach new tricks to an old dog. He couldn't be swayed." Nott snorted again. "He wouldn't even take a sniff at the potion we have at hand. He wouldn't accept the enhancement in it that allows the wolf to hunt without the conscience of a human."

Daniel gave a wry smile. "Like you said. You can't teach new tricks to some people."

"Indeed." Nott clapped his hand against Daniel's shoulder. "Daniel. I have a mission for you."

"Shoot, boss."

* * *

"Harry, I swear, he's going to break down that fireplace! Get down here this instant!"

"Just a minute!"

After a moment of tapping his foot against the floor, Draco witnessed Harry stomping down the stairs without his usual silent approach, his wings and hair still glistering with drops of water. He was clad in only jeans – they had tried to modify some shirts to accommodate Harry's wings, but Harry had discarded them instantly, claiming they were itchy and uncomfortable. Draco found no complains.

"Sheesh," Harry grumbled, impatiently drying himself with a wave of his hand. "Can't a Valerius take a shower in peace?"

Draco quirked an eyebrow. "Complain to your pet wolf, not moi."

"I resent that comment, Draco," came the mild voice from the fireplace. Draco flashed a good-natured smirk and slunk away to give some privacy to the pair.

Rolling his eyes, Harry dropped to his knees in front of the fireplace. In the middle of the green flames, sat a head of scruffy, tawny hair and a pair of golden eyes. "_Finally_, Harry. You haven't contacted me, or Severus, for three days, after sending that quick note that you're both fine after the bloody fight in the village."

Harry smiled apologetically. "Sorry," he said. "Didn't mean to get you worried. We just – needed some quiet time."

Remus' frown of displeasure morphed into a concerned one. "Are you feeling okay? Should Severus bring some calming potions -"

"No, no need," Harry gently interrupted, raising a hand, and Remus fell silent. His eyes, however, remained suspicious. "Honestly, Remus. I'm fine."

"Ron told all about the battle." The werewolf's voice was carefully neutral, questioning.

Harry met his gaze evenly. "I know I killed a lot people. But I also know they would have killed either me, Draco or the Aurors, without guilt. I'm okay with it." He smiled, a quick ghost of a smile. "Draco helped me to realize it's okay to feel remorse, just as long as it doesn't consume me."

Remus appeared somewhat relieved. _He knows of my Gryffindorish guilt-complex,_ Harry amusedly thought. _I guess he expected me to have some kind of nervous break down. Well, _he granted,_ I almost _did_ have._

"That's good. I'm glad you're taking it so well, Harry."

"Yeah. Me too." Harry squinted. Remus looked a bit worse to wear; his skin was sickly pale and he seemed weary. "Are you ill, Remus? You look a little sick."

"I'm just feeling rather tired, that's all." Remus smiled gently. "It was the full moon two nights ago."

Harry grimaced, a fresh twinge of guilt tweaking his heart. "I'm sorry, I completely forgot - "

Remus waved his apologies away with a dismissive hand. "Don't you worry about that, Harry. You've got enough problems even without having to fuss around an old werewolf."

"You're not old," Harry said automatically and Remus chuckled. "Did you have Wolfsbane, at least?"

"I did," Remus assured him. "There was some left in the storage. Draco promised to make a new batch for the next month."

"Good, good."

There was an awkward silence for a moment. Harry stared at Remus' worn face, seeing all the long years he had suffered underneath. People feared him, avoided him – just because he turned into a wolf once a month. A pretty harmless one now, to boot. "Remus," he couldn't help but asking, hoping Remus wouldn't take it the wrong way. "Have you considered taking Nott's side?"

Remus looked at Harry, his eyes showing no surprise at the question. He gave a thoughtful nod. "I believe that thought has crossed my mind once or twice," he admitted, with no guilt whatsoever. "Nott is, after all, on my kind of people's side"

Harry leaned in, curious. "What holds you back, then?"

"Knowing I am better than them. Knowing that even though I could find acceptance among them, I would be paying it with blood." He shook his head. "Nott's goals may be noble, but his methods are a far cry from being good and exalted. The Ministry's corruption and bigotry must be stopped, but not at the expense of tearing this world into bloody parts."

Harry looked into the bright flames, watching his own reflection ghosting over the fire as he considered Remus' wise words. "Do you think I will ever be accepted?" he finally whispered, trying to keep the bitterness away from his voice. "I'll always be a monster, won't I? Always something weird and distorted, never normal."

"Oh, Harry." Remus twitched, like he was attempting to shift forwards. The fire, of course, restricted his movements and his head was left floating in the flames. "You're no more monster than I am. Isn't that what you always told me?" A reminiscing smile touched his lips. ""You're not a monster, Remus, no more than I am." That's what you said to me, repeatedly, when I was having my bad days. Don't you give up on yourself now, Harry," he said, sternness in his tone. "You're a wonderful person who saved the world, and who would deserve so much more. Don't let the others let you down with their prejudices."

Harry allowed Remus' voice wash over him like a comforting blanket. It was amazing how the werewolf could be so bitter-free after so many years of being avoided, denied basic necessities like a job, having people shy away out of sheer fear and disgust_. If Remus can do, _he decided with his lips pursed together,_ so can I. I can be proud of what I am instead of hiding and living like a hermit._

"Thanks, Remus," he murmured softly. He stretched out his hand, letting it linger in the flames where Remus' shoulder should have been. He hesitated a moment, debating whether to tell about the threatening note from the Ministry he had received a few days ago, the note he had crushed into dust in his anger, but then he decided against it. He shouldn't add to the burden already on Remus' shoulders. "You can't tell how much that means to me."

"You're quite welcome," Remus told him with a gentle smile. He glanced at the clock hanging on the wall behind Harry. "I better go now, Harry. Despite Severus' arctic demeanour, I know he's concerned and I should go tell him everything is fine with you two. He's been visiting me once a day, supposedly to see if the house has been cleaned well enough. But I know him, he's just trying to pump out information without appearing too worried and sentimental. "

"That old, stoic bat," Harry said fondly. "Still hasn't changed, has he?"

"Not a chance." Remus gave a small wave. "I'll tell him you send your love, as always. See you later, Harry, be strong."

"You too. Bye, Remus."

Remus' head disappeared and the fire sprouted a handful of green sparks before slowly dying down. With a somewhat lighter heart, Harry rose up to his feet and sniffed at the air cautiously. _Ah yes, of course._ There was no mistaking Draco's scent, vanilla from the shampoo he so favoured and fruity freshness from his aftershave, wafting from the back yard like an intoxicating perfume.

Sure enough, as he stepped outside into the heavenly sunshine, Draco was sitting there on a wooden bench, staring at the lake. Soundlessly, Harry crept to him, relishing in the warmth on his wings that felt distantly like someone was tenderly caressing them. "Hey."

Draco visibly jumped, not having heard Harry's stealthy approach. He scowled as Harry slid onto the bench beside him. "Stop doing that, Harry, or you'll give me a heart attack some of these days." He paused. "And I could use some shade, you know."

With a laugh, Harry obediently raised one wing to shield Draco from the relentless sun. "There, better?"

Draco smiled in satisfaction. "Much. So, what did you guys talk about?"

"Oh, you know. It was just a little monster to monster-chat."

Now the blonde looked at him sharply, his smile falling away. "I told you not to call yourself that. That word is despicable, honestly."

Harry leaned his head against Draco's shoulder, inhaling his sweet scent that was being mixed with the earthly smell of ground, grass and flowers. "I'm sorry," he offered with a delicate purr he knew Draco just couldn't resist.

Sure enough, Draco's irritated frown melted into a slight smile and Harry inwardly grinned in his triumph. "You big little kitten," he snorted gently, and Harry purred louder. It felt nice to purr, after all, his chest rumbling with a tickling sensation. "And don't you think I'm not aware of what you're doing. That purr isn't going to save you from _everything_, mind you."

_Damn he's clever._ Harry grinned, allowing his purr to drop. He continued to rest his head on Draco's shoulder, his other wing fanning the air behind them to deliver some coolness into the humid warmth.

"Was Remus doing okay?"

"As okay as a werewolf could be. He said even Snape had been worried about us. Not that he would admit it, of course."

Draco laughed. "Of course. That's Snape to you, I suppose. Never one to voluntarily show emotions. "

Humming, Harry nodded his consent. He felt relaxed and calm, sitting there beside Draco on their back yard. He knew this was mostly because he knew there were no threats around to be wary of. He could only hear the soft swooshes from the lake as small waves lapped at the shore, he could hear a deer travelling through their front yard on the other side of the house, a pair of squirrels arguing over a walnut – nothing out of the ordinary.

Still, he let his instincts take over occasionally and he would sniff the air to make sure they really were alone, cocking his head to the side to make out any sound that didn't belong there. He knew he could never truly let his guard down, given the caginess of Valerius' nature, but he was starting to accept it. _Better be constantly on my guard than slack a little and be dragged back to the Ministry._ He gave a tiny shudder as he thought of that possibility. _The Ministry. The root of all evil and horrible things._

A whiff of wind suddenly brought a familiar scent into his nose. Ron. He smelled of pine and, for some reason, honey. _Strange_.

"Is that... is that Weasley-hair?" Draco's voice took a resigned tone. "Well. Neither he or Hermione have visited for a couple of days, so I take it we've been quite lucky."

Smacking Draco admonishingly, Harry glanced up and saw the well-known glimpse of bright red as Ron worked his way across the field. Within minutes, the outer wards let out a low chime to let them know someone had passed them, someone who had the permission to do that. Without the permission, the wards would have given a louder gong while zapping the intruder should they prove hostile. So far, no-one had tried to break in.

"Ron!" Harry called when the redhead was about to go for the door. "Here!"

Ron, shielding his eyes against the sun, set off towards them with a bounce in his steps and a grin on his face. "Hullo," he greeted them brightly, his blue eyes sparkling. "You two okay?"

"We're good," Harry said, hoping people would stop asking that. "What brings you here?"

"I am here," Ron formally declared, jabbing a finger at Harry, "to bring you out of your isolation. We are having a family dinner today at the Burrow and you are coming, Harry, want it or not." His eyes flickered to Draco. "You, Draco, are of course invited, too."

Draco's wide smile bared his teeth. "It would be my _pleasure_."

"Oh," Harry muttered, uncertain. "I don't know... "

"Did I ask your opinion, Harry?" Ron asked with a raised eyebrow, sounding frighteningly like Draco. "As I mentioned, you are coming – want it or not."

Harry was about to protest, when his thoughts from his chat with Remus drifted into his mind. _I can be proud of what I am instead of hiding and living like a hermit._ He paused, looking at Ron's face that shone with excitement and resolution. Draco stayed quiet by his side, letting him do his own decisions without applying pressure. "Fine," he relented. "I'll come."

Ron faltered a little at his quick agreement and blinked. "You will?"

"I will," Harry said slowly. This time, it was his turn to quirk his eyebrow. "Don't you want me to come anymore?"

"What? No!" Ron took a breath, gathering his wits. "I mean, yes, I want you to come." He halted. "So you're really coming?"

Harry was vaguely amused. "Did you really expect I would be that hard to be swayed?"

"Kind of yeah," Ron admitted, appearing a tad flustered. "I was prepared to all these pretty speeches about families and values and such... " His bottom lip stuck out. "Damn. Those speeches would have been bloody _great_, Harry."

"Oh, poor you." Harry said, deadpan, and patted Ron on the belly since he was sitting down and couldn't quite reach the top of the Ron's head. "I'm sure they would have been outright brilliant, Ron, I really do."

"Oh well." Ron shrugged. "I guess the most important thing is that you agreed, after all."

"You think?" Draco snorted with a shake of his head. "Dear Merlin. Now, when is this fabulous dinner party?"

Ron, perfectly used to Draco's snide commenting and with the ability to brush it off, glanced at his watch. "In... ten minutes, to be exact."

Draco jumped up, abruptly leaving Harry without a shoulder to lean on. If it hadn't been for his Valerius-induced grace, Harry would have ended up flat on his face on the lawn, and he glared at the blonde. "Ten minutes?" Draco was crying out, completely oblivious to the glare. "You're telling me we'll have to be at a party in ten minutes? That's not even _remotely_ enough time to get ready."

"Oh for Merlin's sake, Draco, it's just a small family lunch," Ron scoffed. "It's not some kind of formal ball or anything."

"Nevertheless," Draco told him rather stiffly, "I am a Malfoy and I shall never appear publicly wearing clothes like these."

Harry took a look at Draco's clothes: black trousers and a simple, clean t-shirt. Then he looked down at himself, at the lone pair of worn jeans he wore. _Right_. "Stop fussing," he ordered Draco. "There's nothing wrong with your clothes. Don't be such a child, _I'm_ the one who's shirtless here."

Ron was rolling his eyes. "Please, you two. _Both_ of you will be fine. Can we go already?"

It took some persuasion, but Draco finally yielded and they walked to the boundaries of the wards, swiftly Disapparating away before Harry could even feel the first twinge of nervousness.

The first thing Harry noticed when they appeared near the Burrow was the sound of carefree laughter in the air and the mouth-watering smell of delicious foods.

"Ron," he muttered as they trod along the muddy path up to the house. "What does your family know about why am I out?"

"I told them that it's between you and the Ministry," Ron said, nudging a rusty iron gate that let out a loud creak as it swung open. "Don't worry. They've read the newspaper, too, but they promised they wouldn't bother you with asking tons of questions about it."

"Oh, okay. That's good."

He felt Draco grab his hand and squeeze it soothingly as they finally entered the house and all the loud voices and intense smells attacked his senses, making him hesitate a moment.

"It's okay," he heard Draco murmur, "everything is going to be great. You'll see."

Harry nodded slowly, cautiously looking around. His wings bumped into the walls as they squeezed through a narrow hallway and he winced, retracting them closer to his body.

"Harry!" someone shrieked then and Harry had to fight against the urge to drop into a crouch and bare his teeth.

_Family_, a voice whispered inside his mind, _pack_.

"Lower your voice, if you please," Draco commanded as he kept a hand on Harry's waist. Harry didn't see his eyes but he was sure he was shooting silvery daggers at Ginny, who stood in the doorway, a blush of embarrassment now spreading onto her cheeks.

"Sorry," she whispered, her eyes huge. "I just... _Harry_."

Sniffing her out as a family member, Harry gave a wave of his hand. "Hi, Ginny."

She bit her lip, hovering against the wall. "Can I... Can I hug you?"

Harry couldn't see a reason why he should decline. Gently, he unwrapped Draco's arm and shot a grateful look at the blonde. "Of course you can. Just watch the wings, losing a feather isn't a very pleasurable experience."

Not needing any more encouraging, she practically flew into his arms and squashed him. A bit awkwardly, Harry patted her on the head. Despite Draco knowing Ginny had gotten over her crush years ago, Harry could still feel the jealousy radiating off him in all but visible waves. "Missed me, huh?"

"We all missed you so much, Harry!"

"What is all the commission here – oh goodness! Harry, you made it!"

Harry turned his head to see Mrs. Weasley staring at them, tears of joy gathering into her eyes. She was wearing her favourite apron, the one Harry had bought for her on her birthday a few years ago. It had red and white vertical stripes with 'This is what the world's greatest cook looks like' neatly embroidered in the hem. Rushing forward, she grabbed Harry's hands and held them tightly against her chest. "Oh Harry, how _wonderful_ to see you again. We were _so_ worried."

All the sudden, the hall was filled with excited redheads who all wanted to clap Harry's shoulder and hug him. Questions shot out around him, Fred and George wanting to know about his wings ("Wicked!"), Mrs. Weasley wondering if he had a certain kind of diet now. Harry was starting to feel a little overwhelmed and craned his neck to get a glimpse of Draco somewhere, anywhere -

"Hey! Let the bloke breath, people," came Ron's voice then, loud and clear, and Harry could have kissed him in his relief. "Besides, the food is starting to cool."

"This way, Harry and Draco, this way," Mrs. Weasley gushed, wiping tears from her eyes as she led them into the kitchen through the mass of Weasleys. "Sit down here, dears."

Harry seated himself gingerly, watching as the other Weasleys plus Hermione piled in and spread around the large, worn table that was practically bending under all the food. Draco slid into the chair next to him while Bill sat his the other side. Harry smiled at Bill briefly and the werewolf-mauled man smiled back, his blue eyes holding a spark of interest.

"Tuck in!" Mrs. Weasley said with gusto when they were all comfortably seated. "There's plenty for everyone!"

Harry was reminded of the dinners held in the Great Hall as hands reached out everywhere to grab the mashed potatoes, the roast beef, the lamb chops, the Yorkshire puddings, while the animated chatters that broke out were loud enough to be heard countless of yards away. He gave a wry smile as he heard the barely audible snort from Draco. "Behave," he quietly reprimanded.

"So, Harry!" Mr. Weasley started, bright-eyed. "How have you been? Adapting to the freedom again?"

"Yeah," Harry said mildly, pouring some deliciously scented gravy on his potatoes. "I've just tried to rest and take it easy. I've missed out on so many things, I'm afraid. I heard that Ginny got accepted into Auror training?"

Mr. Weasley ruffled her daughter's hair with a proud smile. "She did, indeed."

"That's great, Ginny, really is."

Ginny gave him a wide grin. "Thanks, Harry."

"And Draco," Mrs. Weasley said with a hint of admonishing in her tone. "You haven't visited us for months, young man. What have you been doing lately?"

Draco shrugged elegantly as he cut his beef into neat little pieces. "Not much, Mrs. Weasley, to be honest." He glanced at Harry with a slight smile. "Just waiting for Harry to come home."

The chatter went on smoothly and soon, Draco struck a conversation with the twins about the joke shop while Harry's gaze swept over the table. There was Charlie, teasing Ron about something that made his ears turn red. Hermione, Ginny and Mrs. Weasley were talking about the new store in Diagon Alley that sold exotic food ingredients while Mr. Weasley listened to what Draco and the twins conversed with avid interest. Percy, of course, was missing from the brood. He had been killed during the first years of the war, trying to protect Ginny from a herd of Death Eaters that had attacked them in Diagon Alley.

However, there was someone else missing. Frowning, Harry glanced to his side at Bill. "Where's Fleur?"

Bill looked up from his plate. "Oh, she's in France at the moment," he said, rather evasively though he tried to cover it up with a crooked grin. "Some family business."

"Oh." Clearly, Bill didn't want to talk about it, so Harry dropped it.

"Your life is pretty much a mess now, isn't it?" Bill ventured. Harry noticed he threw a sideways glance at Ron, as if he didn't want Ron to hear what he was going to say. "I mean, dealing with the Ministry and all. I know they can be rough in the holding cell area."

'Rough' wasn't quite the word Harry was looking for, but he let it slide. "Yeah. It's been a bit tough," he admitted, knowing very well he was downplaying the whole issue. "But it'll get easier, I suppose, with time."

Bill gave a knowing nod. "It can't be that easy to blend in, with your wings and all. Believe, I know the feeling. These scars... " He lifted a hand to trail his fingers across the healed wounds that ran across his once-handsome face. "They mark me as someone abnormal. I can't go to anywhere without people staring at me, _judging_." He paused, staring into nothingness for a second, before shaking himself to snap out of it. He smiled briskly. "But life goes on, doesn't it? We'll just have to adapt and hold our head high."

"I'm kind of used to people staring at me," Harry shrugged, picking at the peas on his plate. "I'm the Boy-Who-Lived, there's no way I could be normal." He sighed. "Not that being a Valerius helps, of course."

"No, I don't suppose it does," Bill acknowledged with a dry chuckle. "People are afraid of things they don't understand and always will be. It's their human nature. And they can never understand."

Harry noticed Bill used the word "their", instead of "us".

"Yeah," he said softly. "I guess that's they way it is."

* * *


	9. So It Begins

_**Give Me Wings to Fly With**_

_**Summary**_: Having Harry Potter locked up as a dangerous beast, the Ministry shows no signs of gratitude for the Defeater of Voldemort. Until there is a new threat to be considered...

_**Warnings**_: Violence (perhaps even some gore), Cursing, Established Relationship (HPDM), Character Death

_**Disclaimer**_: Not mine but Rowling's.

**A/N: **Beta'd, as always, by the awesome Cam.

Thanks for all the reviews!

* * *

**Chapter IX – So It Begins**

_Minister,_

_As of the last battle, I have not had any contact whatsoever with Nott or his group. We will begin our investigation as soon as possible. Advise your people to come forward with any information they may have._

_H.P_

Harry used his quill a bit harder than necessary as he wrote the short, terse note to the Ministry and the parchment nearly ripped under his hand. _There_, he scowled darkly, sealing the letter. _This should keep him and his stupid Ministry at bay for some time._ Quickly, before Draco could come downstairs, he whistled. Within seconds, two winged creatures instead of just the one Harry intended to call sat on the windowsill, nudging each other with ireful glares and snapping jaws and beaks.

"Claw, Hedwig – stop bickering," Harry snapped, snatching up the miniature dragon before it could work itself into a full-blow rage. Then he stroked Hedwig's feathers apologetically as the owl gave a reproachful hoot, her yellow eyes glaring at the dragon. "Sorry, girl, but this note is for Claw. I think he's more suited for this delivery."

Claw let out a jeering sound from his fist and Hedwig huffed up, shooting one last glare of death at both the dragon and Harry before spreading her wings and taking flight. "Great," Harry muttered, eventually freeing Claw who strutted on his palm, appearing victorious. "It'll take _days_ for her to forgive me now." He sighed and lifted the note. "Anyway, Claw. Take this to the Minister, okay?"

The dragon took the letter into its small jaws and nodded. "And you have my permission to scare him," Harry added with a satisfied smirk. Claw grinned its dragon-ish grin and he was off in seconds, a volley of bright sparks of magic left floating in the air. _Bless his nasty little heart._

"Harry, where are you?"

"In the kitchen!" Harry called, swiftly closing the window and sliding the quill and the ink back into the drawer. He felt bad for lying to Draco but he didn't want the blonde to know about the Ministry trying to get to Harry by using Draco. He wanted to handle with the Ministry in his own way.

Draco sauntered into the kitchen, his gait extravagantly swaggering. "How do I look?" he asked, his head arrogantly tilted backwards.

_Oh how many times have I heard that and oh how many times have I replied 'simply stunning'._

But to please his adorably vain fiancé, Harry's eyes raked over Draco's form. He was wearing black trousers with a deep green shirt, glimpsing underneath the seemingly lightweight, tailor-made robes that bore the united crest of the Potter and the Malfoy crests. All in all, a very lovely sight indeed. "Beautiful, my love," Harry commented with a praising smile, truly meaning it.

Draco beamed at him like a small child that had just received top marks from his first test at school. He rewarded Harry with a light kiss on his nose, an endearing habit of his that Harry found irresistibly cute. "Here are your robes," the blonde said, wrapping the said piece of clothing over Harry's shoulders. "Charmed not to wrinkle."

Harry fiddled the navy blue robes, the silken fabric sliding effortlessly through his fingers like his dear old invisibility cloak. Finding modified shirts pesky and a cause of itching, Harry had opted to wear a set of flowing robes instead, his wings smoothly coming out from the slots on the back. After all, it wouldn't look that professional and smart to walk around Diagon Alley, completely topless.

Draco touched Harry's shoulder briefly, his grey eyes solemn. "Are you sure you're up for this? We could wait a couple more days... "

"No." Harry gave a firm shake of his head. "The faster I show myself in public, the easier it is for the people to get used to me. I don't want to hide anymore." He squeezed Draco's hand. "I'm not ashamed of myself."

Smiling slightly, Draco sneaked his hand behind Harry's head and gently pulled him closer to for a affectionate nuzzle. "I'm so proud of you, baby," he breathed. "You know that, right?"

"I know," Harry purred with pleasure, rubbing noses with Draco for a moment before breaking apart. He coughed and ruffled his wings, shaking the his head clear. Draco's scent floated in the air, calming and pacifying. "Now let's go, shall we?"

Diagon Alley, as expected, was buzzing with people. As soon as Harry stepped onto the busy main street, his wings casting great shadows on the pavement, they all halted as if someone had cast a freezing charm on them. People stared with their jaws hanging open, a loud hum of frantic whispers breaking out, moving around like a flock of angry wasps. Harry grimaced as someone even screamed in fright, the shrill sound soon swallowed by the muttering and the whispering.

He had to squash down his instincts that made him tense and overly wary, the Valerius in him certain of an upcoming attack. _It's just a fidgety mob,_ he reasoned with himself, forcing himself to relax before he hissing at the nearest witch or wizard. He could already _feel_ his face twitching, ready to let out a threatening snarl.

Draco's grip on his hand tightened, his thumb soothingly caressing his wrist. "You'll be okay," Draco murmured. "Just ignore them."

_Easier said than done._ But Harry gave his best; he held his head high and briskly walked down the street, fully focusing on Draco's proximity – literally, the only thing that stopped him from lashing out at the onlookers . He tuned out the way people gave wide breadth to them, parting in a sea of fear. He ignored the horrified stares, the dumbfounded gazes, the dismayed side-way glances. He brushed aside the degrading whispers he heard, the snide remarks, the pitying comments.

"I heard he turned Dark. You can't trust him anymore."

"Just look at those wings – he's an animal!"

"Poor him, isn't that boy suffered enough?"

_I've done nothing to be ashamed of. If they can't handle this new me, it's their problem. Not mine._

"I bet it was that Malfoy who cursed him. They're both evil."

"My cousin told my mum that he had seen Potter, draining all the blood from some Muggle girl."

Harry bit his teeth together and clenched his jaw. A ripple ran through his wings, like they reacted to his inner turmoil and wanted him to fly himself out of there, up into the empty sky where they could be in peace, the wind their only company.

There was sudden movement behind them and Harry spun around, unable to control it. His eyes met the frightened gaze of his old schoolmate, Seamus Finnegan. Instead of a warm reunion or even a hesitant "hello", Harry could clearly see the dread in Seamus' eyes before the Irishman bolted, quickly disappearing into the crowd. But the scent of his fear lingered on like a foul smell itching Harry's nose, like an acid mercilessly gnawing at his belly.

"That Finnegan always was a coward," Draco spitefully hissed, his hand like an iron glove against Harry's – cool and inexorable. Then someone else stepped out from the mass of people milling about.

"Well, walking your new pet, are you, Malfoy?"

Instantly, Harry felt the suddenly flaring tension rolling from Draco as they both turned to address the speaker. Flanked by two men Harry didn't recognize, there stood Marcus Flint with an ugly sneer on his rough face. Harry, while keeping a cautious upfront, rummaged through his memory, not really that familiar with the older man.

_Oh yes._ Despite Aurors having harboured suspicions about Flint being a Death Eater during Voldemort's reign as the Dark Lord, it couldn't be proved that he had any part of Death Eater activities conducted during that time. Thus, he was acquitted and let loose.

_A shame, that one._

Harry had met Flint only once and had thought the man to be dark and unpredictable, thriving on other people's failures. There had been half-hearted accusations that Flint had been harassing some Muggle-borns but no-one had come forward willingly. _A wrenched bully, that's what he is._

"What do you want, Flint?" The hostility in Draco's voice was thinly veiled as he gave his own, superior sneer.

Flint leered at Harry, a vile glint in his eyes. "Is your pet tame, Malfoy? He seems a bit," and here he gave an obnoxious wag of his eyebrows, "_wild_. Sure you can handle him by yourself?"

Harry, fully understanding the underlying meaning of Flint's words, snarled, and his wings stiffened. For his credit, Flint merely grinned, not taking even one step back. "Touched a nerve, did I?"

"You're despicable," Draco spat, lips pulled back in a full-blown sneer. "Harry's not some creature, you loathsome imbecile. He's a _person_. If you call him a 'pet' one more time, I will not guarantee you can walk away unscathed." He directed a frosty glare at everyone who had stopped to watch the confrontation. "And that goes to all of you."

This time, it was Harry who laid a calming hand on Draco's arm. "He's not worth it," he said, loud enough for Flint to hear. He ached to succumb to his urges that told him to tear Flint apart, limb by limb. "He's just some ignorant idiot."

"Oh that's so sweet," Flint mocked with a vicious laugh. "A pet defending its owner. How _precious_."

In a flash, Draco had his wand out and aimed between Flint's eyes. "_What_ did I just tell you?" he hissed, taking a threatening step closer.

Flint didn't budge. "You don't have the guts for it, you're just a scared little fuckwit -"

Once Flint started to threaten Harry's mate, he finally snapped.

_I've had enough._

Letting out an inhumane screech, he spread his wings as wide as possible and slammed his hands together. He felt a massive surge of power erupting through his hands, inducing in a sharp, electrical sound that cracked through the air like a savage whip. Flint was thrown backwards, brutally hitting the building several yards away – he groaned, a grimace of pain on his face, before he slumped, falling unconscious on the dusty street.

His henchmen, left untouched where they stood, looked at each other in stupid bewilderment, took one look at Harry, still breathing hard and snarling, and fled. A few people screamed, hastily scampering away from the scene in their fright, but some seemed to realize no-one else but Flint was hurt. Harry's magic had merely picked Flint up and slammed him into the wall, without injuring the others present. Mutters broke out again, more subdued and calculating this time.

Draco, seemingly unruffled, looked down his nose at Flint who was drooling on the street. "I _told_ you I can't guarantee your safety," he sneered, ignoring the fact that the unconscious Flint couldn't hear him. He took Harry's hand again. "Come on, Harry. Let's find a place with more dignity and grace than this dump."

Harry happily agreed, throwing one last look of contempt towards the slumped man sprawled against the wall of a building, and they walked away without a backwards glance. People parted in front of them again but it seemed that it was from careful respect instead of insane fear and horror.

"You okay?" Draco quietly asked.

Giving a wry smile, Harry nodded. "That scum bag deserved what he got."

"He sure did. Merlin, I was _this_ close to cursing him myself." Draco suddenly grinned. "It looked brilliant, the way you threw him against the wall. I wish I had brought a camera."

"I'm glad you appreciated it so much," Harry told him, amused. "So where are we going to find this dignified and graceful place worthy of our presence?"

Draco glanced around. People were still whispering, rudely pointing their fingers as if Harry wasn't quite noticeable already. "I don't know. Somewhere else, I guess. Somewhere where people won't gawk and ogle like idiots."

Harry flashed a grin, an idea popping into his mind. He grabbed Draco's hand firmly, pulling him into one of the side streets. "I know _just_ the place."

Moments later, they were standing beneath a huge sign of letters 'WWW' furiously blinking with neon green and yellow. Draco was staring at it. "You've got to be kidding, Harry."

"Not a chance." Harry pushed Draco towards the entrance door that had a small label on it, saying the store was closed for a moment because "even geniuses need to eat". Ignoring it, Harry knocked on the door. "Oh cheer up," he scoffed at Draco, who was still glaring at the sign as if it had somehow greatly offended him."You like the twins, don't you? Besides, if it isn't his day off, Blaise will be here, too."

Before Draco could muster up a reply, the door swung open, barely missing Harry. "You illiterate people, you really should learn how to – oh! If it isn't the long-lost adopted Weasley and his sulky ferret!"

Harry grinned at Fred – he was one of the few people who could pick the twins apart – who was standing in the doorway. "Hi. Do you mind if we drop in? It's rather... crowded elsewhere."

Understanding showed in Fred's eyes and he held the door open for them. "Of course, of course – come in!" he boomed, ushering them inside. "We were just having some lunch. Would you care for some?"

"Sure," Harry agreed as he followed the freckled twin climbing up a set of narrow stairs where Harry knew the personnel facilities were situated. The store, usually crammed with curious customers and filled with puffs of smoke and strange squeaks, was oddly quiet for once. "That'd be great."

"As long as the food doesn't contain any items from this shop," Draco muttered from behind Harry.

"Don't worry, oh little albino of mine," Fred said merrily over his shoulder, "today's lunch is courtesy of our mum. In other words, the best you can have."

"You're one to talk about colour pigmentation with that horrid red hair," Draco continued to mutter sullenly. Harry rolled his eyes but didn't say a thing; he knew that despite the banter, Draco found the twins interesting and amusing.

Fred either didn't hear or decided to dismiss Draco. He opened a door that lead to a large, open space with towering piles of different sized boxes everywhere. In the middle of the all the organized chaos, there was an empty area with a square-shaped table and mismatched stools, chairs and armchairs scattered about. "Look what I found!" Fred dramatically exclaimed, shoving Harry and Draco in with a flourish. "Two poor strays were on the street, begging for some sweet home-made stew. Please, pretty please, can I keep them?"

George and Blaise, sitting on opposite sides of the wooden table, looked equally surprised for a moment. "Harry!" exclaimed George then, standing up. "And Draco," he added with a mischievous grin. "How nice of you to grace our humble store. Do come in and sit down."

Gratefully, Harry sank down on the nearest chair while Draco opted to seat himself next to Blaise. Harry eyed the dark-skinned man cautiously for a second, measuring him up from the intelligent, slanting eyes to the slender hand resting on the table. _Not dangerous_, came the careful judgement of his inner Valerius, and Harry relaxed. He knew Blaise, of course, him being one of Draco's few good friends but he could never be too careful when it came to the safety of his mate.

Many wondered how Blaise Zabini, a proud Slytherin to the core, had ended up working with the Weasley twins, but to Harry, it came to no surprise. Through Draco, Harry had got glimpses of what kind of person Blaise really was, under the smooth Slytherin cover – amiable, fierce in his loyalty to Draco and with a wicked sense of humour and love for practical jokes.

_flashback – seventh year at Hogwarts_

"_Everyone," announced Draco as soon as he had stepped inside his common room, tightly holding Harry's hand in a vice-like grip as if he was afraid the Gryffindor would bolt any moment now. "I'd like you to meet my boyfriend, Harry Potter."_

_A subdued buzz of hushed whispers blossomed from some corners of the room, but most of the Slytherins took the news in without a fuss, merely narrowing their eyes in mild distaste or nodding in quiet acceptance. No screaming in outrage or threatening to hex the pair apart. Suddenly, Harry felt very ashamed of his own house. An uproar had gone through the Tower once Harry had told them, just an hour ago, and Hermione had had to freeze some of the most hotheaded students to prevent any lasting damage being done. Luckily, most of the Gryffindors had calmed down after a moment and grudgingly promised they wouldn't try to curse Draco in order to see if Harry was under a love potion._

_As Harry, rather shyly, gazed around the large common room with comfy, black leather sofas and numerous exquisite fireplaces made of shiny marble, with no-one jumping up, protesting, Harry began to gradually loosen up. Some younger students stared at him openly with curious eyes whereas the older ones discreetly glanced at his direction, warily keeping an eye on him. _

_However, Draco wasn't quite finished yet. "If any of you have a problem with Harry," he went on, his voice deathly serious and with a frosty bite, "you have a problem with _me_. Understood?"_

_Again, there were agreeable nods and pursed lips but no racket of any kind broke out. Harry was puzzled but pleased nevertheless. Slytherins _were_ infamous for their canny ability to keep their head cool in every situation, after all. Besides, Harry supposed, Draco was their unnamed leader, the Slytherin Prince, and who would openly question a leader such as Draco Malfoy? _

"_Come, sit," Draco murmured, leading Harry across the common room towards the corner the older students seemed to claim as their own. Only three other seventh years were present and they were all watching Harry keenly as Draco pulled him down onto one of the sofas, practically on top of Draco. Parkinson with her little pug-nose, gazing at Harry shrewdly, an open book propped up on her lap. Zabini with one raised eyebrow, leisurely leaning against the backrest of the couch. Nott, sitting apart from the others with a stack of ancient-looking books around him like a wall, his dark eyes glittering with something Harry couldn't quite identify. _

"_So," Parkinson started, her tone perfectly composed. "Potter, huh?"_

_Harry tensed, not really knowing what to expect, but Draco's touch on his hand, his thumb rubbing the wrist, made him slowly relax again. "Yes, Pansy. Potter." Draco gave a wry smile that had an edge of a warning. He was challenging her to say more._

"_Interesting," was all that Parkinson remarked, eyeing Harry calculatingly. _

"_Should've seen it coming, though," said Zabini with an amused chuckle. "All that bickering and fighting... I mean, just _look_ at all that pent-up sexual energy."_

_Harry, not accustomed to seeing a group of Slytherins acting like normal people, stared at Zabini while Draco and Parkinson snorted with suppressed laughter. "Uh... Right."_

"_Eloquent as ever, aren't you, Potter?" Parkinson airily asked, smoothing out the wrinkles in her skirt as she spoke. She then proceeded to wink, which almost made Harry to bulge his eyes completely out from pure bafflement. Slytherins didn't _wink_. "I bet that's different when you're in bed. Lots of tongue-work and all."_

_Harry flushed deep red and Zabini openly laughed. Harry was too mortified to realize it was genuine laughter, not scornful or mocking._

"_Pansy," Draco scoffed, wrapping a protective arm over Harry's shoulders. "Stop that. You're embarrassing him."_

_Parkinson waved a flippant hand. "Ah yes, I forgot he's a Gryffindor. I do apologize for my bluntness," she added with a tone so light Harry knew she wasn't serious. _

_Nott snorted from his armchair, bending over a new book with a dark scowl on his face. "Gryffindors," he disdainfully muttered, ignoring them all from that point on._

"_How long have you been, you know, together?" Zabini asked. "No – wait, let me think." His forehead burrowed. "I haven't seen you fight and insult each other like you really mean it for... at least a month?" _

_Harry exchanged a glance with Draco. Had they really been that transparent or was Zabini just a really good observer? "It's been a month tomorrow," Draco confirmed. He narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "How did you know? We _have_ bickered in public, to keep up with appearances."_

"_Oh, you know. Sure, you called Potter a four-eyed freak and Potter called you a git of a ferret a number of times but there wasn't real hatred behind them anymore." He shrugged. "They were just words. I often thought that what was going on with you two but figured it was not my business to pry on. You would tell in your own time."_

_Draco nodded slowly. "I see." He turned to rummage through his bag that lay in his feet. "Oh bugger," he muttered, sounding irritated. "I forgot my Defence essay into the library and it's due tomorrow morning." He rose to his feet. "I better go and retrieve it before Prince throws it out."_

_Harry made to stand, as well, but Draco pressed him back down. "You can stay here," the blonde said determinedly._

_Harry's eyes flew large. "But - "_

"_They won't eat you," Draco drawled, then gave a reassuring smile. "You're under my protection. If something happens to you, they answer to _me_."_

_Swallowing, Harry glanced around the half-full common room and bit his bottom lip. Draco waited his response with a raised eyebrow. _Bloody hell, am I a Gryffindor or not?_ Harry squared his shoulders, nodding firmly. "Fine," he said. "I'll stay here."_

_Draco pecked his nose gently. "I'll be back soon." Then he swept out, leaving Harry alone with the Slytherins. _

Oh boy.

"_I'm curious,"Zabini said, as if Draco had never left. "How _did_ you end up together?" _

"_Oh." Harry shrugged. "We just... well, uh, you remember the first Quidditch match this year?"_

"_The one where you two ended up colliding mid-air and tumbling to the ground when chasing the Snitch?" Parkinson pursed her lips thoughtfully. "You both were in the infirmary for a week, right?"_

"_Yeah, a week and a day," Harry nodded. "You see, there were no-one around in the hospital wing since Pomfrey put us into one of the isolation rooms because there was such a big crowd trying to see us all the time."_

"_I remember that." Zabini's nose scrunched up, just a little. "Trying to get in to visit Draco was a bitch."_

"_So, we got bored. A week is a long time."_

_Parkinson leaned in, bright-eyed. "You started snogging to pass the time?"_

_To his dismay, Harry felt himself blushing again. "No," he scowled, crossing his arms over his chest. "We started _talking_," he emphasized the word, "instead of hurling insults back and forth. Not that we didn't do that, too," he admitted. "I don't know, it was a mix of civilized conversation and half-hearted arguing."_

"_And when you got out?" Zabini seemed honestly curious, a zero level of malice in his eyes. It was strange, Harry thought, strange but fascinating. _

"_We still talked from time to time. Met in empty classrooms after curfew, at the shore of the lake, places like that. Behind our friends' backs, of course." Harry felt a shadow of a smile pass over his face. "We kept our gradually evolving relationship in secret, thinking no-one would approve of it."_

"_What did you talk about?" _

_About how Harry felt with the burden of saving the world crushing on his shoulders. How Draco didn't want to be a Death Eater. How Harry had grown up, belittled, knowing nothing about wizards and witches. How Draco had been raised to follow his father's dark footsteps. How Draco wanted his parents to be saved. How the world wasn't black and white anymore. "Just stuff."_

_Parkinson and Zabini exchanged a knowing glance but to Harry's relief, they didn't press the issue. "So you were just friends in the beginning?" Parkinson asked._

"_Yeah, just friends. It just... started to change after a few weeks." Harry examined his sleeve, fiddling with the frayed fabric. "We met more often. Sometimes, we spent whole nights in this handy little room..." The Slytherins around him faded into nothingness as he remembered, a smile tugging at his lips. "Draco kissed me first, once we left for our own common rooms and own circles of friends. It was just a little peck, on my nose, as he said goodnight. But... " Realizing he had audience, Harry felt his cheeks get warm. He coughed, just a tad uncomfortable. "So, yeah. That's when we realized there might be something more than being just friends. We just... drifted towards a, uh, romantic relationship."_

"_Interesting," Parkinson said again, slowly entwining a strand of her hair around her finger._

_Zabini eyed Harry so solemnly Harry pretty much expected him to ask what were his intentions towards Draco. "How is he in bed?" was all he asked, however, completely deadpan. _

_Harry stared. And blinked. _

"_I've just wondered," Zabini said, rather defensively, when even Parkinson looked at him strangely. "Since he always claims to be such a stud."_

"_You're odd, Zabini," Harry decided, shaking his head. _

_Zabini answered by flashing a smile so sincere Harry all but ogled._

_end flashback_

"Hey, Potter," Blaise greeted softly.

Harry smiled back, a little reserved but calm. "Blaise," he said. "Weren't we on first name-bases?"

Blaise chuckled, languidly leaning back against his chair. "That we were, Harry, you're right."

"Some stew?" George offered as he was levitating two extra plates towards the table. They landed in front of Harry and Draco with muffled thuds. "It's Molly's world famous beef stew."

"With no added ingredients," Fred added for Draco's benefit. Draco gave a small, unenthusiastic sneer.

"We'd love to," Harry said, eyeing the large pot with a delicious scent flowing from it like an alluring cloud. "It's pretty hard to find a good place to eat in Diagon Alley these days."

"Especially if you happen to have a pair of wings", Draco remarked with a dry smirk as he reached to take a generous heap of stew into his plate. Harry hid his smile, knowing the blonde was an avid fan of Molly's dishes.

"Today your first public appearance?" Blaise had a sympathetic expression on his face.

"Yeah." Harry scowled briefly at his glass of water. "They couldn't stop staring at us and then Marcus Flint showed up." The plate in front of him gave a little shake, trembling as tiny tendrils of Harry's magic leaked out. "I kind of lost if for a moment."

"Really?" Blaise actually grinned. "Flint always _was_ an arsehole."

"He probably deserved it, that pillock," Fred agreed with an enthusiastic nod and a wave of his fork that sent pieces of meat flying. "Just out of curiosity... what, exactly, did you do? Gave him a wedgie huge enough to leave his butt cheeks tingling for months to come, I hope?"

Harry almost chocked into his chew as he snorted with an abrupt bout of laughter. _Trust the twins to make me forget how angry I feel. _"No, though that would have been brilliant. I just blasted him against the wall."

"He should have been arrested for all the foul things he said," Draco said darkly, stabbing his stew with such vigour he must have wished Flint was underneath his fork. "But the Ministry's pretty useless nowadays."

"You can say -"

"-that again," George gravely finished what Fred had started and they all hummed their agreement.

Rest of the lunch was spent talking about more pleasant subjects and time flew past regrettably quickly. Soon, the store had to be opened again and they went downstairs. A small queue was already formed in front of the door on the street, eager customers peeking in.

"Can't stop the money flowing in," Fred sonorously said, flashing a bright grin as he opened the door with a flourish. A group of school boys zealously poured in, spreading out in every direction with exclamations of awe and surprise. Harry, staying in the shadows by the door with Draco, went unnoticed.

"Well." George gave Harry's shoulder a friendly punch. "Nice of you to visit us, both of you. I hope you'll drop by more often in the future." He grinned wickedly. "By the way, Harry, we'd _love_ to try if your feathers have any kind of value to our business."

Harry snorted, amused. "I don't think -"

A sudden scream from the street made them all startle and Harry dropped into a half-crouch in front of Draco without thinking.

_Danger_. His nostrils flared as he took a sniff of air.

Draco tried to look past Harry as a second scream joined the first. "What the bloody hell -"

"A werewolf," Harry snarled, recognizing the bitter stench.

"A werewolf?" Fred cried out as he grabbed one of the boys attempting to run outside, shoving him deeper inside the store. "A turned werewolf loose in Diagon Alley?"

Harry and Draco's eyes locked fleetingly. _The misfits._

"Stay here." Harry spread his hand against Draco's chest, fingers splayed. "Promise me, Draco, that you will stay in this building?"

Draco frowned, his eyes narrowing to show his distaste of being told to stay put. "Don't you even think about facing the wolf alone, Harry."

Again, a shrill scream cut the air. Harry winced; the werewolf was coming closer. He could hear its nails clicking against the pavement.

"Harry -"

"I'm sorry," he gasped, whirling around and dashing into the street. Before Draco could blink, he had slammed the door back closed and sealed it so that no-one but him could open it again. He managed to catch a glimpse of Draco's outraged face, pale and wide-eyed, through the glass of the door before he had to turn his focus elsewhere.

A massive werewolf was stalking towards him on the deserted street, its movements graceful despite the size. The wolf's thick fur was mostly light brown, like honey, darker streaks marring the even colour here and there on the burly torso. Harry could see its yellow eyes, gleaming with intelligence as it came to a stop a few yards away from him.

It growled, a low sound that rumbled from its chest. Harry hissed, baring his teeth and spreading his wings, poised to attack. He felt no fear, no hesitation. The only thing that mattered to him was the knowledge that this werewolf could potentially harm his mate or one of his pack members. He could not let it happen. He snarled.

The wolf's muscles tensed for a split second and it lowered its head, slimy drool dripping onto the street. Then it sprang forward like a huge jack-in-the-box, all snapping jaws and tangled fur. Harry almost managed to dodge the attack but one of the heavy paws scraped his shoulder, ripping apart the fine fabric of his cloak and throwing him aside. He rolled to his stomach, quick as lightning, and slammed his open hand against the street with a vicious snarl.

The werewolf gave a high-pitched yelp, the bolt of magic singeing its fur like fire. But it didn't stop it from charging at Harry again, and this time, its jaws locked around Harry's arm to stop him from delivering another magic blast. Harry hissed in pain as sharp teeth tore into his flesh like it was just as soft as melted butter. Lying on the ground, he couldn't use his wings to his full advantage but his free hand shot out and he grabbed a handful of the wolf's dirty fur, using it as his leverage to pull himself into a more upright position.

Once his upper body was hoisted up, he whacked the werewolf with his wing, the powerful movement causing the wolf to yelp again and loose its grip enough for Harry to tug his mangled arm away. _Thank Merlin I'm immune to werewolves_, flickered in his mind as he glanced at the bloodied mess that was his arm now. He shoved the pain he felt into the back of his mind. He couldn't lose his focus now.

He growled at the wolf, making his grip on the fur even firmer, his fingers tangled in the coarse hair. Straining his wings, he started to rise above the street, dragging the growling and barking werewolf with him – but they didn't reach more than a couple of yards before the wolf managed to twist its head aside, capturing some of the feathers from Harry's wings into its mouth. The wolf yanked down and Harry howled from pain, immediately losing altitude as his other wing stopped working.

They crashed to the ground, a mass of feathers, fur and claws. Harry, though weakened by his injuries, shoved the werewolf aside with one, mighty push and raked his hand across the chest of the wolf. Blood began to seep from the deep wounds and the wolf tumbled, almost falling over. But then it snarled and with suddenly found energy, rammed against Harry with its whole weight, knocking out all the air from his lungs. One of the paws deliberately stepped on Harry's injured wing and Harry would have screamed if he had had the air to do it.

_He knows exactly how to hurt me best._

Then, Harry blinked. The werewolf on top of him was gone, only to be replaced with a man with dirty blond hair, tangled like the wolf's fur had been. Golden eyes bore into him.

"Harry Potter," uttered the man, his voice harsh and raspy. He pressed his hand against Harry's throat, his head bent so close his lips were inches from his ear. "I've come with a message from Theodore Nott."

At that, Harry let out a chocked snarl of fury and attempted to throw the heavy man off of him but the man twisted the seriously aching wing with one hand. Harry bit back a yelp and hissed at the man, gathering up his power. "What is it?" he growled, glaring.

"He wants you to join him. He can offer you anything you want, anything you desire." His whispered words felt hot in Harry's ear. "He can offer you the Ministry, destroyed, demolished."

Harry spat on the man, his magic tingling as it started to surface. "I'd never join him," he hissed with vehemence. "His values aren't mine."

The man's eyes flashed. "You could be something great -"

_Enough_! Harry snarled, releasing the power he had gathered. The man was blasted away like a doll and Harry scampered to his feet, still snarling. He was quick enough to see the man changing back into the wolf and fleeing the scene, droplets of blood smearing the ground as a sign of the battle.

Harry was left heavily standing on the street, staring after the wolf.

_So it begins._

* * *


	10. Understanding the Enemy

_**

* * *

**_

Give Me Wings to Fly With

_**Summary**_: Having Harry Potter locked up as a dangerous beast, the Ministry shows no signs of gratitude for the Defeater of Voldemort. Until there is a new threat to be considered...

_**Warnings**_: Violence (perhaps even some gore), Cursing, Established Relationship (HPDM), Character Death

_**Disclaimer**_: Not mine but Rowling's.

**A/N: **Beta'd by Cam, as talented as ever. Thanks for the reviews!

* * *

**Chapter X – Understanding the Misfits**

"No-one found the wolf?"

Kingsley, sitting on the other side of the kitchen table, shook his head. "Unfortunately, no. He vanished before any Aurors could appear on the scene." His dark eyes flickered towards Harry who sat on his stool slightly slumped, one wing crooked. As if that wasn't enough, he also held his hand gingerly, resting it on the table. "Harry, are you sure you're okay? From what I heard, you took quite a hard beating."

Harry gave a faint scowl, his face bearing the signs of fatigue. Draco put an arm around his waist, careful not to touch the damaged feathers. _He's too stubborn for his own good._ Snape had delivered them a bunch of healing potions that were stronger than average and in his note that had accompanied the box of potions he had ordered Harry to rest for the potions to be most effective. But Harry, being Harry, had insisted they deal with the meeting with Kingsley before he would "take that bloody nap".

"Just a little tired," Harry said frivolously. "Nothing to worry about."

_For Merlin's sake, nothing to worry about? Your arm and wing were nearly ripped off by a werewolf,_ Draco wanted to scream, but he just took a deep breath and kept silent. Judging from the bright flash in Hermione's eyes, she completely agreed with him. Hermione and Ron had Flooed in immediately after having heard from the incident, pale-faced and fretting. Apparently, one the twins had contacted them and vaguely told about how Harry had fought off a werewolf in front of their store. Needless to say, they had been worried to death.

"Were there any distinctive marking on either the wolf or the man himself?" Kingsley asked, a quill at the ready, hovering above his notebook.

Harry rubbed his eyes and Draco knew that despite his brave front, Harry was tired and irritated, probably in pain, as well. "The wolf was big, bigger than Remus," he started, his eyes staring at the wall above Kingsley's head. "It was light brown with a darker snout. Some dark brown streaks were on its sides and on its paws." He shrugged. "Nothing special about it, I'm afraid. The man, once the wolf transformed, was a beefy guy. Lots of scars. Short, dirty blond hair and golden, kind of yellow eyes."

Ron's face was scrunched up in thought. "The more time a werewolf spends in their wolf form, the more yellow the eyes are, right?"

"Or more specifically, the more he gives in to the wolf's nature," Hermione corrected. "That's why Remus' eyes are just amber. He has embraced the wolf in him but his self-control has pretty much uprooted the bloodlust a turned werewolf naturally possesses."

Kingsley gave a grave nod, not looking up from his note-taking. "Any werewolf-supporter of Nott would be quite unlike Remus, I imagine." He tapped his quill against the paper. "And the man, you've never seen him before?"

"Never," Harry confirmed.

"There's nothing that makes him stand apart from others?"

"Well." Harry wrinkled his nose, disgruntled. "He was strong and knew how to hurt me the best. Obviously, Nott has been taking notice of me." A look of extreme distaste shadowed his face. "He seemed very intelligent."

Ron snorted contemptuously. "Can't be that clever if he sides with Nott."

"He's just desperate for acceptance," Harry said, sounding weary. "He's a werewolf, Ron. You know how hard the society is on werewolves." He gave a sad shake of his head. "Remus is extremely lucky to be in the situation where he is now – with a roof on top of his head and enough money in his vault to live comfortably."

"I think that 'luck' is called 'Harry Potter," Draco gently murmured. After all, it was Harry's old house Remus inhabited now and it was the money from the Black vaults, inherited by Harry, that kept his account well-balanced. Remus had tried to recline everything, vigorously claiming it was he who should take care of Harry and not the other way around, but Harry had insisted. Quite hard. That night had produced its fair share of screaming, crying and, eventually, hugging, but Harry had prevailed in the end.

Harry shot him a quick smile. Draco noticed he was absent-mindedly twisting the promise bracelet he wore, slender fingers running over the smooth silver surface.

"And it's not like I'm defending him," Harry added when Ron frowned in confusion. "I'm just saying I understand the reasons behind his decision to join a person like Nott and his quest. The prosecution of the ones that differ from the main population... It's not easy, to live like that. Some may accept the situation as it is or hide the rest of their lives, but some, like that man, want something drastic to be done. Their cause is a good one, basically, even if their methods aren't."

Draco knew what Harry was talking about with painful clarity. Even though his own blood was as pure as it got, his surname still, even after so many years, raised suspicious glances and frowns of disapproval. In some people's eyes, he would remain the son of a Death Eater for as long as he would live.

_The magical world is very old-fashioned, in a way. Differences aren't tolerated, past is never forgotten. Though, _Draco mused, _the Muggles, too, are quite alike in that area, from what I've heard._

"Wise words," Kingsley said approvingly and looked up. "Know thy enemy, as they say. Indeed, violence is never the answer, even in a case like this."

Ron's expression took a resigned look and he half-shrugged, indicating that he understood but didn't really agree. Harry locked eyes with him for a brief moment and Draco could see they were communicating silently, something passing from the green eyes to the blue ones. Ron's left eye twitched and then he heaved a sigh, nodding. He didn't look overly happy but satisfied all the same, even though the other corner of his mouth was still downwards curled.

Sometimes, Draco did envy this connection Harry had with his best friend. Smooth and soundless, like they were able to sense each other's feeling and thoughts just like that. _I guess that's what made them such a formidable pair in Auror training._ Draco could still vividly remember the air of confidence and unity Harry and Ron had both projected when they all had participated in the battles in order to keep the Death Eaters at bay – the Auror trainees with the qualified Aurors, Unspeakables, members of the Order; everyone teamed up to fight off the greatest evil that had walked the earth.

Kingsley nearly dropped the quill he was holding all the sudden and he pursed his lips in annoyance. Grumbling something under his breath, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a tiny slip of strange looking parchment that seemed to vibrate in his hand. Draco looked on with interest, rarely having seen that kind of communicating. He faintly remembered Harry telling him it was very much alike to how some Muggles kept in touch via something called a pager.

"It seems we're ready to interrogate the prisoners we managed to attain from the latest battle," Kingsley said, having read whatever had been written on that parchment. He slid the thing back into the pocket and climbed to his feet. "Would you care to join us?" he offered, looking at everyone. "You might learn something new."

"I'm afraid I have to get back to work," Hermione said apologetically. "I've skipped so many hours it's a miracle I still _have_ a job."

At once, Harry looked guilty, fidgeting in his chair. Hermione noticed, as well, and laid a soothing hand over his arm. "Harry," she said, her tone gentle but still firm. "Don't get that shamefaced look, okay? I'm not skipping work because you made me. I'm skipping work because _I_ want to be here for you." She stood, a little smile on her lips as she ruffled Harry's hair. "I'll stop by later in the evening to see how the healing potions have worked." Her eyes flickered to Draco for a second before returning to Harry. "Send me a message if you need me, alright?"

Harry smiled back, albeit a little resignedly, and nodded. "Will do. Thanks for dropping by and have fun at work."

Hermione gave Ron a light kiss, nodded at Draco and Kingsley and Flooed away in a flash of emerald flames and sparks.

Ron glanced at his clock. "My shift starts soon anyway, so I could tag along." Then he glanced at Kingsley, a questioning look in his eyes. "That is, of course, if I haven't got anything else to do at work at the moment?"

Kingsley waved a dismissive hand, closing the notebook with a flick of his wrist. "You are welcome to observe the interrogation. There can never be too many professional spectators." His dark eyes bore into Harry, scrutinizing. "You could use the rest, Harry, but I'm not forcing you to stay behind if you wish to come along and watch."

Squaring his shoulders, Harry nodded, his mouth set into a firm line. Draco didn't need any kind of Legilimency to know that Harry wanted to go, despite his obvious need of rest. The blonde stifled a resigned sigh and got up alongside Harry. "We'll come," Draco said, his hand on Harry's elbow as he narrowed his eyes at the Valerius. "But we'll return immediately should you wear yourself out too much."

Harry gave a meek smile, carefully rearranging his wings so that the injured one wouldn't lag behind. "I'll be fine," he murmured as they walked to the fireplace. "The potions are working well."

Draco almost allowed his hand to brush against Harry's swollen hand just to prove him that the potions wouldn't fully help unless he lied down for a while. _Liar_.

"There are fully qualified Healers at the Auror Department if the need arises," Kingsley promised and took a pinch of powder from the pot on the mantel piece. Draco wasn't sure whether he was reassuring him, Draco, or Harry.

_My wild guess would be me._

* * *

The interrogation room wasn't much. A square-shaped space, big enough to hold a gleaming table with two chairs on opposites sides, just like Draco had seen in some Muggle action films. The walls were painted dull grey, as if not to either excite or sooth a suspect. One wall was glamoured to look like a normal, solid wall from the inside, but in reality, the wall was perfectly invisible to the ones in the adjoining room, allowing the audience to freely observe what was going on in the interrogation room. From what Draco had heard, though, it was specifically just the suspect that saw the wall as a normal wall – the interrogators could see through the glamour.

Draco stood by Harry as they watched the first misfit being lead in by two Aurors. It was a young, ragged man with uneven stubble on his thin, pale face. His narrow eyes had a shifty look in them, a quality that made Draco instantly dislike him. The man sat down on the chair, his shoulders hunched up in a way that told everyone he knew what was going to happen and that he would resist with all the strength he possessed.

"Adolph Philander," murmured Kingsley in a low voice, his eyes on the man like two pieces of metal following a magnet. "A half-blood. His mother was Muggle-born and went missing during Voldemort's reign. His sister was deported from England by the Minister when it was discovered she was part-vampire." Kingsley shook his head tiredly. "She was killed in Bulgaria last year by the local vampire community she tried to approach in her desperation."

_Ah_. That explained the hard look in the young man's eyes, the accusative posture that practically radiated defiance and bitterness. "Regretful," Draco admitted and gave a curt nod. "That doesn't justify his actions to join Nott, however."

"No," Kingsley said, his voice jaded. "No, it indeed does not."

"He looks a little confused," Ron observed from the other side of Harry, peering closely into the interrogation room. "I assume he has been kept in a holding room since the arrest?"

"Correct." Kingsley nodded. "Standard interrogation methods. Keep the suspect alone and isolated for a few days, strictly no correspondence with anyone."

"To keep him guessing and wondering," Harry muttered, either remembering the tactics from his own Auror training or just knowing. "Not knowing what's going on, kept apart from the other misfits... Quite effective in making him distraught and vulnerable enough to let something slip."

Draco felt a momentary pang in his heart, painfully realizing what a great Auror Harry would be now if he had been given the chance. He sighed, quietly and discreetly. _The world just isn't fair. I __should know that by now already._

Kingsley seemed to think that, as well. He placed a hand on Harry's shoulder for a brief moment, a sad little smile curling his lips. "Correct", he said again, patting Harry's shoulder once before focusing on Philander again.

Harry ruffled the feathers of his healthy wing, smiling a little at the approval. Draco shared an understanding glance with him, gently squeezing his uninjured hand before they, too, concentrated on the interrogation room.

An Auror had stepped into the room after Philander, his face avoid of any other emotion than determination. Draco didn't recognize him but he knew he must have been someone Kingsley trusted – he wouldn't allow some half-cocked Ministry puppet to destroy any chance they might have with getting crucial information out of the misfits.

The Auror slowly sat down opposite the young man. Philander narrowed his eyes, leaning slightly back in his own chair. The charms planted in the chair made it impossible for him to actually leave it but he sure did his best getting as much distance as possible between him and the Auror.

"Adolph Dillon Philander," said the Auror in a deep, authoritative voice that held no room for arguments. He glanced at the parchment he had on the table in front of him. "That is your name, am I correct?"

Philander pursed his lips, looking like he had suck on a lemon, but nodded nevertheless. "It is," he stiffly agreed.

"Son of Dianne Garret and Byron Philander?"

Philander kept on looking like he had been on a citrus fruit-based diet for the past week. "Yes."

"You were home schooled with your siblings instead of being sent to Hogwarts?"

The seemingly innocuous questions continued for a while and Draco noticed that Philander, despite his ground out replies, began to relax just a little. His shoulders weren't as hunched as they had been and his spine wasn't stiff as a board. Then, of course, the Auror let go of the parchment that must have contained Philander's background and looked up.

"Why did you join Theodore Nott and his group of radicals?"

Philander's mouth snapped shut and he frowned, glaring at the table as if it had done something terrible to him.

"You are aware what Nott is responsible of?" the Auror went on, his voice cold as ice and relentless as steel. "What _you_ are responsible of?"

"Why don't you tell me, since you oh-so-obviously want to?" Philander sneered.

The Auror stared at him for a moment, a neutral look on his face. Then he glanced down at the parchment. "Twenty-seven dead Muggles: three children and ten women," he listed, completely emotionless. "Four dead wizards. Two completely destroyed villages." He looked up again. "And I'm not even starting with the injured or otherwise affected people."

There was not even an ounce of regret in Philander's voice. "There are always casualties," he said flippantly. "In wars. Besides, the villages were harbouring horrible people in them." He leaned forward suddenly, resting his elbows on the table, a mad gleam in his eyes. "They _deserved_ to be wiped out."

The Auror's face showed distinct abhorrence. "By 'horrible people', you mean people like Matilda Wilkinson and Cameron Hall whose relatives lived in those villages?"

"Yes," Philander almost hissed out, his eyes flashing with such vivid hatred Draco felt Harry stir restlessly beside him. "They are responsible for those laws that gives the Ministry right to banish anyone they want, the rights to keep anyone deemed _dangerous_ under lock and key, the rights to -"

"I know them," Ron murmured as Philander continued ranting, his voice growing louder by the second. "Wilkinson and Hall. I've seen them a couple of times." The redhead grimaced in distaste for a moment. "Reminded me of Umbrige, actually. Both of them, oddly enough. Still, their families in those villages... " He shook his head. "They did nothing to deserve to be killed like that. Nothing."

Silently, Draco agreed.

"I see," was all that the Auror in the interrogation coolly remarked. "And that gives you the right to massacre innocent people, people who had _nothing_ to do with those laws?"

Philander gave a full-blown sneer. "It was a sign," he rasped. "A sign of our great power. A sign that we will _win_."

The Auror watched Philander silently for a few seconds. If it hadn't been for the steely look in his eyes, Draco would have thought the Auror was completely undisturbed. "Where is Nott?" he asked all the sudden. "Where are his headquarters?"

Philander laughed, an ugly sound that made Harry's wings twitch. "Like I'd tell you."

It appeared to be the answer the Auror had expected. Unperturbed, he turned his head and caught Kingsley's eyes. The Head Auror gave a grim nod.

"Time to bring in the Veritaserum," Ron mumbled, watching the scene with professional keenness.

The Auror stuck his hand into his pocket, producing a tiny vial of crystal clear liquid that he placed on the table. "I'm certain you know what this is?"

Philander didn't reply. His upper lip curled and he scowled.

"The Minister has given us free rein concerning how to interrogate the misfits," Kingsley said quietly, not looking away from Philander. "That's why it's so easy to use the truth serum. No need to get permits."

"Of course," Harry muttered, his jaws clenched. "I bet you are free to use torture, too."

Kingsley looked at him sharply. "That is, naturally, where I draw the line."

"I didn't mean it like that." Harry sighed. "I know you will always treat suspects humanely, no matter what."

Kingsley stayed silent but curtly nodded in understanding.

"State your name," came the Auror's first order, smooth and professional.

Philander's, his eyes unfocused, blinked. His mouth cracked open. " Adolph Dillon Philander," he said flatly in a monotone.

The Auror paused, leaning in like he was going to jump over the table and rip the answers straight from Philander's throat. "Where is," he began, his voice almost vibrating with impatient expectation, "Theodore Nott?"

Philander's head swayed as he swallowed. Everyone held their breaths and Harry's fingers dug in painfully into Draco's arm - "I can't tell."

Defeated silence fell. Then Kingsley cursed, his hands balled into fists and frustration flashing in his eyes. "Nott must have some pretty heavy charms over his location."

Draco released the breath he had been subconsciously holding, slow and weary. _Of course. It could've not be so easy. _He shook his head. _Nothing is never easy._

He risked a glance at Harry, who was quietly staring at Philander. He looked disappointed, thwarted even, and his lips were twitching. _Like he's trying to subdue a snarl._

The Auror proceeded to ask some more questions, trying to find out everything possible, but all that was revealed that Nott had "powers that no-one here has". It was the last question the Auror fired, however, that caught everyone's attention.

"Does Theodore Nott have any informants inside the Ministry?"

Everyone fully expected a negative answer. After all, who Ministry-worker in their right mind would want to join Nott, whose only goal was to demolish the said institution?

"Yes."

Draco drew back, honestly surprised, and even the Auror's face registered abrupt shock. "Who is it?"

Philander shook his head in slow motion. "I don't know. Nott never told their name. But he says there is someone in the Ministry who has been supplying him information."

"What information?"

"Names. Places." The haziness began to clear in Philander's eyes. He blinked rapidly.

"Of what?" the Auror demanded. "Names and places of what?"

"Of registered people with magical blood and their locations. Of people the Ministry has wronged." A lazy smile spread into Philander's lips and his eyes slowly shifted to focus again. "That's how he found most of his supporters."

"Bloody hell," Ron growled. "Can't _anyone_ be trusted these days?"

"This is the Ministry, Ron," Kingsley said, sounding jaded. He waved his hand to the Auror who bound Philander's hands with magic and led him out without a word. "This means we should be even more careful from now on."

Harry reeled suddenly, quickly putting out a hand to lean against the fake-wall. Alarmed, Draco noticed his face was drawn and pale with exhaustion. He wrapped a supporting arm around Harry's waist. "I think we're going home," he said gently and Harry gave a tight nod.

"You okay, Harry?" Ron sounded worried and he fidgeted, twisting his robes in his hands. He glanced at the interrogation room where a new misfit was being steered in. "I can come with you, if you want -"

"We'll be fine, Ron." Harry's voice was tired but determined enough for Ron to nod hesitantly. "You stay here and do your job. I'll just... "

"Go home and rest," Kingsley supplied with a raised eyebrow. "And I'm _ordering_ you to stay in bed until you feel better. Understood?"

Harry smiled weakly. "Understood."

They bid their goodbyes and left the Ministry as quickly as possible. Draco handled the Apparating since Harry was in such condition he couldn't have done it safely enough, so they appeared into their front yard in the middle of the verdant fields of grass and beautifully scented flowers.

Instantaneously, Harry looked better, his head thrown back to inhale the fresh air that seemed to unclog all their senses like a regenerating charm. Draco kept his arm sneaked around Harry in case he needed support again and nuzzled his neck. "Come on, baby," he murmured against Harry's neck. "Let's get into the house."

At the door, Harry stiffened for a brief moment, his whole body going rigid. Both of his wings, even the hurt one, quivered.

"Harry?" Draco questioned, frowning. He was about to ask what was wrong but then Harry went slack again, his head drooping as he relaxed.

"Snape," he whispered, reaching a hand past Draco to open the door. "He's here."

Draco nearly groaned out loud. _Bloody fucking hell._ _He's going to rip me a new one for not getting Harry to rest._ Squaring his shoulders, he followed Harry into the sitting room where their guest was currently leafing his way through a book.

Black eyes looked up the moment they stepped into the room. Snape shrewdly watched Harry tremble in his exhaustion before he looked at Draco, a sneer forming in his lips. "Why isn't he in bed?" he inquired, silky and cool like an ice-cold snake, slithering towards Draco. "Like I ordered?"

"I -"

"It's not his fault," Harry butted in, grimacing. "I chose myself not to lie down."

Slowly, Snape stood from the armchair he had been sitting in. He crossed his arms over his chest, narrowing his eyes at Harry. "And why, pray tell, did you so choose?"

Harry answered the glare stubbornly, his bottom lip sticking out like a child's. Draco suppressed a sudden snort of laughter – _just like in school when Snape is going to land him in detention. I guess some thing don't change._

"Because I had other stuff to do beforehand," Harry argued. "We went to see the interrogation of one of the misfits."

"And that is more important than your own health?" Snape scoffed. "You idiotic boy."

Harry scowled, obviously not that keen on being called a boy. "I'm not saying it's like _that_ -"

"Luckily for you," Snape smoothly interrupted, raising his hand that held a small vial of purple liquid, "I found this from my cupboard. I do not expect you to recognize it, of course, you always were quite devoid of talent in Potions, after all... "

Draco watched, amused, as Snape took Harry by the elbow, gentle but firm, and started to lead him upstairs, incessantlylecturing and reprimanding every time Harry sputtered something.

_That old bat, _he fondly thought. _His ways of showing he cares... very unlike from anyone else I know. _

_flashback – halfway between graduation from Hogwarts and the defeat of Voldemort_

_It was silent and dark in the corridors that were, for once, blissfully void of rushing Healers and screaming patients. Only the continuous hum of magic greeted Draco like an old friend as he headed towards a familiar room_. I should have never allowed him to be an Auror, _Draco half-heartedly thought_, with all the accidents and fights, it's a miracle the Auror Department isn't being shut down because of the hospital bills.

_As he soundlessly turned a corner, he saw that he wasn't that alone he had originally thought. There was someone standing in the corridor, quietly watching through the large window that allowed Healers to check on patients without opening the door. Dark shadows hid the visitor's face from view but Draco would have recognized the man anywhere from his strict posture and the tell-tale voluminous black robes. _

"_Why don't you ever visit him during the day?" he mutedly asked, keeping his voice down to keep the patients sleeping all around them. _

_Snape raised his head in one, sharp movement and Draco was met with a pair of piercing, black eyes. After a moment of silence, he looked at Harry again. Harry, who was lying in a hospital bed in his room on the other side of the window, in deep sleep to quicken his healing. _Manticores _can_ really be a bitch to handle,_ Draco thought to himself. _

"_He'd like that, you know," Draco quietly added, stepping next to Snape. He glanced at Harry, at the peaceful expression he always had when he was asleep. "To have you visiting him when he could actually see you."_

"_I rarely have the time to spare," Snape said stiffly with a small sneer. "I have better things to do during daytime than to visit irresponsible brats who get hurt every other day."_

_Draco was silent for awhile. "I know you visited me, too, when I was hospitalized last month because of the potion accident. The Healers told me you stood here, just like you're dong now, in the middle of the night."_

_Snape's jaws clenched but he gave no other signs that indicated he had heard Draco._

"_You're not a spy anymore," Draco murmured, eyes on Harry's immobile form, covered by thick sheets. "You don't have to hide. No-one would say a thing if you were seen publicly showing your support."_

_From the corner of his eye, he saw Snape looked at him long and hard. "It is not that easy, Draco," he finally said with a low tone. "A life-time of wearing a constant mask... " He shook his head, smiling wryly. "It can't be dropped that easily."_

_Draco sighed. "Yeah, I guess so." He glanced at the older man, allowing a small smile. "Thanks for dropping by, though. I'm sure Harry would appreciate it if he knew."_

"_I'm sure."_

_Together, they stood there in companionable silence , watching the steady rise and fall of Harry's chest. _


	11. Halo, Lost

_**Give Me Wings to Fly With**_

_**Summary**_: Having Harry Potter locked up as a dangerous beast, the Ministry shows no signs of gratitude for the Defeater of Voldemort. Until there is a new threat to be considered...

_**Warnings**_: Violence (perhaps even some gore), Cursing, Established Relationship (HPDM), Character Death

_**Disclaimer**_: Not mine but Rowling's.

**A/N: **Cam, you rule. Thank you for the reviews!

* * *

**Chapter XI – Halo, Lost**

_Pain._

_Fire._

_He writhed, the burning spreading all over his body like wildfire, relentless flames kissing his naked skin. There was no escape, no release – just the sensation of fire greedily consuming him._

_Letting out a guttural scream, he tried curling his wings to protect him, only to find them utterly unresponsive. The frustration and pain overwhelmed him, sending him careening towards the welcoming darkness and its soothing arms -_

_Then it stopped. The fire vanished in a puff of smoke like some simple magic trick, leaving only the echoes of pain behind. He trembled with spasms that mercilessly rocked his whole body. _

"_There," a voice said, hard and cold. "That should teach it to behave."_

_The pain gradually wore off, but the memories of it didn't. Neither did the rage, the wild anger that devoured him the same way the fire had. _

_They had hurt him. They were the enemy. They needed to be destroyed._

_Crouched on the cold floor that felt rough under his bare feet, he snarled at the shadows lurking on the other side of the bars that separated them from him. He poised for attack, hands clenched into furious fists and legs spread apart for firmer position, his torso still violently shivering._

"_This one is rather stupid, isn't it?" the voice came again and one of the shadows waved something in their hand, threateningly tapping it against the bars. Instantly recognizing the item that had brought him pain, he snarled, reluctantly backing away with a sibilant hiss. His back pressed against the cold bars on the other side of the space he had been confined in, he watched the shadows through narrowed eyes until they went away. _

_In the silence than ensued, he dropped down on the floor and curled into a ball, his head pressed against the soft feathers of his wings. He sat there, immobile, black eyes staring straight ahead, seeing nothing, thinking nothing. In there, the darkness and the silence were his only friends that brought him peace._

"Harry, what's the matter?"

His eyes flew open and he sat up quick as lightning, disoriented until familiar scents invaded his senses and calmed down his rapidly beating heart. _Home_. The sweet fragrance of Draco's favourite shampoo flowed closer and the bed dipped as the blonde leaned towards him. "Harry?"

Harry looked into the worried, grey eyes. "Just a bad dream," he croaked, swallowing. The blankets were too heavy and too warm around him - he threw them off, welcoming the cool air that soothed down his heated skin.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Draco's question was hesitant, but there was heart-breaking concern underneath his voice. Silent, Harry took the hand that rested on his thigh and squeezed it, his fingers finding Draco's promise bracelet.

"What... what time is it?"

"A bit past five in the morning."

Harry frowned. "Snape stuffed me with sleeping potions, didn't he?" he muttered, sighing heavily.

Draco smiled gently. His usually perfectly groomed hair was mussed up from sleep and there were imprints of his pillow on his cheek. Just the sight of him, sitting there with the covers messily wound up around his legs, soothed Harry even more. "That's just his way of showing he cares about you," Draco softly said, pulling Harry close to him. "You know that."

"Yeah, I know." Harry tucked his head against Draco's neck, his hand resting on Draco's shoulder. He loved the way Draco's skin felt underneath his fingers, smooth like the finest of marble but soft and warm.

"How does your arm feel?" Draco's hand went through Harry's hair, carefully unsnarling the knots there. Harry leaned into the delicate touch and closed his eyes. He could hear Draco's heartbeat, steady and pacifying."And your wing?"

Still keeping his eyes closed, Harry cautiously flexed his injured arm, glad to find it completely pain-free. The same happened with his wing. "They're fine, completely healed." He smiled against Draco's neck. "I must admit, Snape knows his stuff."

"That he does." Draco fell silent for a moment, gently sorting out the tangled parts of Harry's perpetually snarled hair. "What did you dream about?" he suddenly asked. "I know they treated you like shit in the Ministry. Did you dream that you were back in there, in the cage?"

Even the word 'cage' brought cold shivers running down Harry's back and he buried his head further into the crook of Draco's neck, into the warmth and safety.

"Hey," Draco murmured, softly. "I don't want to upset you, but you can trust me. You can tell me anything."

Harry turned his head slightly, taking a peek at Draco's solemn face. "And can you promise you won't run off to the Ministry to hack the Ministry officials into pieces?"

Draco gave a dry smirk and bent down to plant a light kiss on Harry's nose. "Oh you know me so well, baby." He sighed, smiling a little softer this time. "I promise I won't allow the urge to revenge fill me. Even though it _would_ be quite fitting," he added in a mutter.

Harry heaved a sigh greater than Draco's, collecting his thoughts as he ignored Draco muttering about marching into the Ministry and demolishing the ground levels with rather imaginative methods. He turned so that he still rested his head against Draco's shoulder but now he was facing away from the blonde, staring out of the window. The sun was just about to rise outside but dark clouds in the sky dulled the bright light dimmer, less colourful. "I don't remember that much," he started, pondering. "From the time you guys weren't there. Flashes, images, smells. Sensations."

"Like pain?" Draco asked ever so softly.

Harry nodded. "Pain I remember. You know they... disciplined me when I wasn't," he sneered, "_cooperating _with them."

He paused, glad that Draco let him think, instead of asking for more and rushing him. "Just now, I dreamt of their favourite punishment. I don't remember what I did, probably tried to attack them or something, but then again... It usually wasn't that hard to get them brandishing their wands and screaming at me."

"What did they do?" Draco whispered, his mouth inches away from Harry's ear.

Rain started to fall outside, heavy and forbidding. Harry heard it smashing against the roof, relentlessly beating the windows. "They used a curse that made me think I was on fire. I couldn't see any flames but I sure felt them."

Draco inhaled sharply and his hand in Harry's hair stiffened for a quick moment. "Those _arseholes_," he murmured, his voice thick. He manoeuvred his arms through the spread of feathers to wrap them around Harry. "I'm so sorry, baby. Those fuckwits had no right to treat you like that. I swear, if I ever see a guard I recognize -"

Harry turned his head enough to silent Draco with a kiss. "It's no use," he said quietly, feeling the soft flutter of Draco's eyelashes against his cheek. "I'm not defending them, hell no, they deserve to burn in hell for what they've done, but... I don't want to stoop to their level in revenge," he whispered, swallowing. "This darkness in me... The Valerius, _it_ wants to revenge, it wants to tear them up, it wants to hurt them in every way they hurt me. And I can't let that happen, Draco. I can't let this other side of me consume me." He squeezed his eyes shut, his head falling back to rest on Draco's smooth shoulder. "I don't want to be a monster."

"Oh, Harry." Draco drew him tight against his body, nuzzling his now tangle-free hair. "You're not a monster and never will be. After what you've been through, those kinds of feelings are normal. Hell, even _I _want to kick those bastards to hell and back."

"Yeah, well. You're not what I'd categorize under the word 'normal', either," Harry feebly joked.

Draco cuffed him gently at the back of his head. "Shush, my winged darling," he scoffed, "and go make some breakfast. I haven't tasted your pancakes for a painfully long time."

Harry scrunched up his nose. "What am I, your wife?"

Draco turned him so that they faced each other, and Harry saw the smile on his face that had the power to draw away any dark clouds nearby and make Harry feel breathless. "No, but you're my bonded mate and I love you so very much."

Giving Draco a big, wet kiss, Harry smiled back. "How do you like your pancakes?"

* * *

"Blueberries, blueberries..." Harry muttered, peering into cupboard after cupboard. "Where the hell are the blueberries?" Giving in, he swung the door to the last cupboard closed and looked around. "Twinkly?"

With a small pop, the house elf appeared in front of him, a cheery grin on her face as she performed a light bow. "Yes, what is master Harry wanting?"

"Do we have any blueberries left anywhere?"

Twinkly frowned, deep in thought for a short moment before she shook her head. "Twinkly is sorry, but there are no more blueberries. Twinkly thinks master Draco ate the last box of them yesterday. But there is a box of fresh strawberries in the cold closet. "

Harry sighed. "Fine. Can you order some more blueberries?"

"Twinkly can do that, yes," the house elf solemnly promised, her head bobbing up and down. "Twinkly will order a dozen boxes of blueberries right away. Is there something else Twinkly can do for master Harry?"

"No, that'll be all. Thank you, Twinkly." Harry smiled at the elf who gave a tiny bow again before vanishing.

"Strawberries it is, then," he muttered and fetched the small box of berries from the fridge. He sprinkled a good amount of sliced strawberries on top of a mountain of freshly baked pancakes, finishing the breakfast with some sweet maple syrup. "There, that should be alright. That picky little snob," he snorted.

Hearing the pad of Draco's feet approaching, he didn't bother turning around. "Here are your pancakes, straight from the pan. Unfortunately, we were out of blueberries, so I used strawberries instead. Hope that doesn't interfere with your appetite, your majesty."

Draco didn't reply. Confused, Harry looked over his shoulder and saw the blonde standing there, eyes downcast to read something he held in his hands. With a frown, Harry turned completely around and cocked his head questioningly. "Draco?"

Draco did look up then, his eyes burning furiously. "Why didn't you tell me?" he asked, voice tight with anger. "Why the bloody hell did you not _tell_ me?"

_Oh, no._ The pancakes forgotten to cool on the counter, Harry dropped his gaze to the letter Draco was clutching. He could just about make out the writing on the parchment – the usual note from the Ministry with badly veiled threats against Draco if Nott wasn't apprehended soon. Momentarily closing his eyes, Harry swallowed the lump in his throat. He felt apprehensive and guilty for lying to his mate, the person that mattered the most for him, but also a twinge of vexation. Draco had _no_ right to read a letter addressed to him.

"Hedwig just knocked on the bedroom window." Draco's eyes blazed and Harry almost flinched, the Valerius in him shivering. "I thought it was a letter from Kingsley, but imagine my surprise when I read this." He sneered, crumbling the parchment and letting it flutter to the floor. "When where you planning on telling my that the Ministry has been threatening you and, also, _me_?"

Stubbornly, Harry met Draco's narrow-eyed gaze and forced himself not to shrink away from the pure anger he saw directed at him. "Probably never," he snapped with honesty, crossing his arms over his chest. "You have more important things to worry about."

Draco stared at him. "This isn't important? The Ministry is threatening to use me to get to you! Look into my eyes and say again that that isn't _important_, for fuck's sake."

Chewing his bottom lip, Harry looked away. He knew it _was_ important, Draco could get seriously hurt or worse – but he couldn't allow himself to tell Draco something that would make him overly worried. It was the inner Valerius that wanted to protect Draco at all costs, even if it meant keeping his mate in the dark. "I can't explain it," he tried, shrugging and still avoiding Draco's eyes.

"You can't explain it," Draco repeated flatly. "Right. If you'll excuse me, I want to be alone for a moment."

Without saying anything else, the blonde spun around and stalked off. A second later, Harry heard the slam of the door as Draco went outside.

"Bollocks," he groaned, falling into the nearest chair and burying his face into his hands. Fighting with Draco was even more horrible than before – the Valerius took the anger from his mate heavily, feeling as if he had let Draco down, _betrayed_ him. And Draco's cold dismissal in the end was like a painful blow straight to the stomach.

He drew in a shaky breath, trying to calm himself down. A strange ache made him itch all over and he began to feel oddly irrational, disjointed. He rested a hand over his racing heart, frowning. Something struggled within him, trying to surface, something dark, something sinister.

"Draco?" he called, frantic, getting up and staggering to the door. He opened it, eyes agitatedly searching the vast grass field, doing his best to see or smell the blonde. "Draco?"

No answer. No familiar scent to follow. Nothing.

The realization kicked in like a bucket of ice cold water dumped over him.

_He's not here. He's not here._

Harry almost fell down to his knees, his vision darkening as if someone had slipped a pair of sunglasses over his eyes.

_He left. _

Swallowing, he curled his hand around the railing in the porch. The wood cracked under his forceful squeeze. _I have to find him._ He closed his eyes, focusing. _Before the Valerius can take over again._

His mind raced, separating from his body – _I have to find Draco –_ and flying, searching, desperately seeking. There – a flash of red, the smell of home-made pie that lingered in the air. Harry opened his eyes, the darkness spreading. T_he Weasleys. He's gone to the Weasleys._

He had not time to debate with himself. Using the last bits of his remaining strength, he Apparated into the Weasleys' front yard. "Draco?" he weakly shouted as soon as he found air in his lungs again. "_Draco_!"

There was a slam of door again. "What is going on – oh, goodness! Draco, you better come here, quick!"

The darkness dissolved a little and Harry could gradually breath a little easily.

"What is it?" came Draco's annoyed voice. "I don't – _Harry?_ Oh, Merlin!"

Running footsteps approached Harry and then strong arms embraced him, fingers clenching in his hair. Harry welcomed the scent and proximity of his mate with a little sigh, happily leaning into the touch. "Shit," Draco murmured, tightening his hold. "I'm so sorry, Harry, I completely forgot. I didn't _think_, fuck."

"It's okay," Harry muttered, hoping Draco would never let go. "I'm okay now."

"No, it's not okay. I'm an insensitive little prick." Draco sighed. "But thanks for saying that."

"You had a good reason to run out," Harry couldn't help but say, hanging his head in shame.

Draco's warm breath tickled his neck. "No, no reason is good enough to run out on you like that. And I guess you have your own reasons for not telling my about the letters."

"Yeah," Harry agreed softly. He paused. "Why did you come here?"

Draco shrugged. "Just a spur of the moment, I suppose. I knew Remus was here and I wanted to talk to him, ask if he... if he knew about the letters."

"No, he doesn't know," Harry murmured. Draco released his tight hold enough so that they could stand a couple of inches apart. "I'm surprised Remus didn't tell you to haul your ass back home, though," he muttered with a snort.

"He probably thought you were with Ron or Hermione," Draco guessed, idly caressing Harry's wings. "Merlin, I was so _stupid_."

Harry kissed him, tasting the soft lips that opened for him with relish. "Forget it, alright? I'm fine, we're all fine."

Draco gave him a last squeeze, almost forceful enough to leave bruises. "I promise I'll never leave you alone again," he promised. "Never again."

Harry just smiled as Draco brushed his lips against his nose. "I know."

"Now, let's get inside the house before all the Weasleys come crowding here."

The instant the front door closed behind them, Harry was attacked with a series of concerned questions and cries that almost overwhelmed him.

"I'm fine," he strongly assured with a soothing smile plastered on his face. "I wasn't just feeling that well, but I'm fine now."

"Do you want a cup of tea and some pie?" Mrs. Weasley asked, scrutinizing him up and down with hawk-like eyes. "I insist," she added before Harry could say anything.

"That would be great, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said meekly, knowing when not to decline. "Thank you."

She beamed at him and bustled off to the kitchen. Harry trailed after her, hand in hand with Draco. Remus followed them, eventually sitting down on the chair opposite Harry. His amber eyes were dark with worry as he regarded Harry solemnly. "Are you sure you're alright?" he asked with a frown. "You still look a little queasy."

"I'm okay," Harry told him, quietly thanking Mrs. Weasley who laid a cup of steaming tea in front of him. "Stop worrying, Remus, honestly."

"Did the potions Severus brought help? Oh, no thank you, Molly. I just ate."

"After he had to be knocked out," Draco helpfully supplied, taking a generous slice of the pie Mrs. Weasley offered. "_Then_ they helped. Thank you, Mrs. Weasley, this looks great."

Mrs. Weasley smiled fondly. "Anything for two of my favourite boys. Now, if you can excuse me, I have to get started on that dinner since Bill is coming by any time now." And with that, she bustled off again like a benevolent bee with too much energy.

Remus shook his head at Harry with an exasperated sigh. "Sometimes, you're just too stubborn for your own good, Harry," he commented with a small smile. "Tell me, what was so important you couldn't take a small nap to get your strength back?"

"We went to the Ministry to observe the interrogations," Harry said, with just a hint of defensiveness . He was pleased to see a flicker of interest in Remus' eyes before the amber darkened again.

"Nevertheless," he scolded sternly, "you should have thought of your own health before straining yourself like that." He lowered his voice, glancing at Mrs. Weasley who worked on the other side of the kitchen, humming to herself while wielding a frying pan, a kettle and a large knife at the same time. "But that aside, did you find out anything new concerning Nott's whereabouts?"

"No," Harry confessed, picking at his pie. "Not even a tiniest of hints. He has some good magic protecting his location."

"And disturbingly devoted followers," Draco added with a light sneer. He was already on his second piece of pie, licking the spoon to get the last of the crumbs. Harry's eyes tracked the movements of his tongue for a moment, mesmerized, before he blinked and snapped out of it. Trying to banish the image of Draco's lithe tongue from his mind, at least for now, he proceeded to tell what else had been said in that small interrogation room.

Remus didn't look overly surprised at the mention of Nott's informant inside the Ministry. "There must be some unsatisfied people working in there, as well," he said, scratching his chin. "Not every Ministry official is a mindless little puppet. The Weasleys, for example."

Draco snorted shortly with laughter. "Somehow I just don't see any of the Weasleys as traitors, though. They're the epitome of all that's good. Saints with halos, the lot of them."

"You can say that again," Harry agreed with a grin. He eyed Draco's plate that was empty once more. "How about some more pie, Draco?"

Draco shot a suspicious glance at him, but when Harry merely smiled at him innocently, he shrugged, eagerly reaching for the pie. "Why not? It _is_ delicious, after all."

"And you have a serious sweet tooth," Harry muttered under his breath, watching in amusement as Draco slathered his newest slice of pie with a mountain of whipped cream.

After they had demolished the whole pie, Draco being responsible for most of the damage, Harry felt that he needed some fresh air. Promising Mrs. Weasley they would stay for lunch, he stepped outside into the lush back yard with Draco.

"I love this garden," Harry murmured as they walked through the wild shrubs, the overgrown flower beds and the grass that occasionally reached to their knees, swaying gently in the breeze. "It's so unorganized, so harmoniously simple."

"It's all right," Draco concurred with a nod, pointing to a nearby wooden bench that stood alone in the middle of the grass, framed by a thick hedge that threatened to swallow the whole bench. "Let's sit over there, shall we?"

They sat down on the bench that gave an ominous creak but didn't collapse under the sudden weight. Harry curled a wing around Draco, the long tip feathers resting in the blonde's lap. Draco stroked them absent-mindedly and Harry let out a purr, leaning his head against Draco's shoulder. He felt so comfortable and safe, lulled by the warmth and closeness from his mate, he almost fell asleep right there, if it hadn't been the squeak from the back door of the Burrow.

Draco turned his head, trying to peer around the massive hedge, but Harry touched his thigh soothingly. "It's just Bill."

"Oh."

A few seconds later, Bill appeared from amid the shrubs, shaking crusted leaves off of himself. He smiled at seeing them. "Hey. You don't mind if I join you? Mum told you went outside."

Harry patted the space on the bench beside him. "Of course not. Go ahead, sit down."

"Thanks." Bill seated himself with a satisfied sigh. He tapped at the curious branch that tried to curl around his arm, still smiling lightly as the branch drooped down, as if disappointed, and withdrew back into the hedge. "Sometimes, I think Mum and Dad should redo this garden. But mostly, I think it's perfect the way it is now."

"I like it this way," Harry said musingly. "Our own garden is completely different and I love it, but coming here... It's somehow comforting."

"Yeah, I know what you mean." Bill looked up into the sky, leaning against the sturdy hedge. "It would be too drastic to try and change how this place looks like. I've never cared much for drastic ways... until recently. Now, I find that you _must_ be drastic in order for things to change, in order for the world to become a better place."

Something set off the warning bells in Harry's head.

_Danger_.

He stiffened, his back straightening, and Draco looked at him, frowning. Then, there was a flash of light and Draco froze, falling off the bench in slow-motion like a statue someone had pushed.

_Danger_.

Whirling around, Harry sprang to his feet to face Bill but the redhead had anticipated his movement and with one, smooth motion, he struck at Harry's neck with his hand.

A sharp pain pricked at his skin and Harry gasped, horrible numbness suddenly taking over his limbs. His spread wings wilted down as Harry's whole world tilted – slowly, still gasping for breath, he dropped to his knees in shock. He could barely keep his eyes open but he struggled to stay upright, to stay concious. Draco was lying petrified on the ground, the frown frozen on his face, and Harry tried to reach for him, his hand desperately outstretched. _Draco_.

Someone, however, gently grabbed him from the middle and hoisted him away from Draco.

"I am sorry, Harry," came Bill's voice, distant and metallic in Harry's ears. Harry stared at the figure with red hair that loomed over him in pure shock, unable to speak. He couldn't understand, he couldn't think. "But this is the only way. Don't struggle, Harry, just give in. Give in."

_No, no._

But despite his furious inner battle, Harry went completely lax, his eyes rolling in his head as he slowly lost consciousness, lost in the sea of darkness. _Why, Bill, why?_

The last thing he saw was Bill's apologetic face as he placed something cold on Harry's chest and the swirl of colours as the Portkey activated.


	12. Desperation Underneath

_**Give Me Wings to Fly With**_

_**Summary**_: Having Harry Potter locked up as a dangerous beast, the Ministry shows no signs of gratitude for the Defeater of Voldemort. Until there is a new threat to be considered...

_**Warnings**_: Violence (perhaps even some gore), Cursing, Established Relationship (HPDM), Character Death

_**Disclaimer**_: Not mine but Rowling's.

**A/N: **The beginning of this chapter goes back a few minutes before the last chapter ended, to give Draco's point of view of the lovely cliffhanger.

Beta'd by Cam, thanks a million!

* * *

**Chapter XII – Desperation Underneath**

There was something strange about Bill.

Draco couldn't quite put his finger on it, but something was amiss, he was sure of it. The way he moved, the way he talked... So casual, so nonchalant. Draco couldn't help but feeling wary.

He gave an inward sigh. _Stop being so stupid_, he forcefully told himself. _This is a Weasley we're talking about. They're all saints. There's nothing threatening -_

Then Harry stiffened all the sudden, as if he had sensed something alarming, and his relaxed posture changed in a flash. Frowning, Draco looked at him, wanting to ask what was wrong, but with a flash of light, he found himself utterly unable to move a muscle. Ever so slowly, the gravity did its work and he toppled down from the bench like a rag doll. The moist ground was cold, the wetness seeping into his clothes, and Draco tasted grass in his mouth as he fought against the shock and the approaching panic.

There was a heavy thud somewhere near him and Draco did the only thing he could do – he stared, unblinking.

Harry was on his knees almost directly in front of him, awkwardly slumped on the ground, a look of naked shock and fear on his face. His green eyes were wide open and he was gasping for breath, turning paler by the minute. Draco's unmoving eyes caught something red glistering on his neck; a trickle of blood made its way down Harry's shoulder, over his chest, finally splashing into the grass like a tiny, tiny river that had come to an end.

Draco couldn't move. He couldn't cry out for help. He couldn't grab his wand from his pocket. He was forced to lie there, on the wet grass, and watch as the world crumbled around him.

_Bill_.

Bill had petrified him. Bill had done something to Harry.

Draco didn't want to believe it but he knew his own eyes could not deceive him. He saw the look of calmness on Bill's face as he stepped beside Harry, the slightly apologetic glint in his blue eyes. He saw the small, emptied syringe he loosely held in his curled fingers.

_The saint with the lost halo._

Harry tried to reach for him, his hand stretched towards him, fingers brushing against Draco's own hand. Draco tried, oh he tried, but he couldn't lift his arm and grab Harry's hand and pull him into his arms where they would be forever safe. Bill bent down and his arm wrapped itself around Harry's waist, Harry's wings scrunched up under the rough hold like delicate fabric and Draco wanted to scream.

Against Bill's chest, Harry lay like a broken toy, his head lolling. "I am sorry, Harry," Draco heard Bill say. "But this is the only way. Don't struggle, Harry, just give in. Give in."

A flash of desperation and horror filled Harry's eyes before they rolled backwards and all life escaped his body.

_No, fight back, Harry, fight back! Don't give in! _

But Harry couldn't hear him. His eyes didn't open and he didn't miraculously stand up and blast Bill away with a clap of his hands. Draco raged inside his mind, he screamed and prayed, he shouted and begged – but nothing happened.

Kneeling on the ground, Bill lowered Harry down and placed something on his bare chest. Then he murmured something, low and short, and Harry vanished from view, leaving behind only a matted spot on the grass and a gleaming feather, a vivid streak of black in the green.

Draco felt empty inside, hollow. If he had been able to move, he couldn't have. He couldn't comprehend what had happened. He felt the grass prickling his cheek, the chilly wind making goosebumps spread all over his body, the fresh smell of moist ground tickled his nose – but he felt as if it wasn't real.

It _couldn't_ be real.

Then Bill slowly rose to his feet with a sigh, brushing away the grass that stuck to his worn jeans. As Draco looked at him, the man who he had trusted, the man who was a part of Harry's family, rage filled him. A kind of rage he had never felt before, all-consuming rage that spread to every inch of his body like wildfire, boiling, _burning_.

And just like that, the spell shattered into millions of little pieces and he was able to move again. Without wasting any time, he whipped out his wand before even getting up from the ground. "_Expelliarmus_!" he shouted and Bill's wand came soaring towards him. He snatched it and scrambled up, levelling both wands at Bill with a dangerous snarl on his lips.

"Tell me _one_ reason," he hissed through his teeth, "why I shouldn't kill you right now."

Bill, with a mild, surprised expression, held his hands up. "I truly am sorry," he insisted on repeating, as if it mattered. He didn't seem too scared even though he was facing an enraged, armed Malfoy whose fiancé he had just kidnapped. "If only Harry had seen the truth, this would have not happened. If only he had realized, on his own, that his loyalty should be with Theodore. That they would be great together -"

Unable to control himself, Draco punched Bill in the middle of his frenzied speech. "You little piece of ignorant shit," he snarled as Bill staggered backwards a step or two, holding his hands to his bleeding mouth. "You were Nott's informant, weren't you?"

Spitting out a mouthful of blood and what must have been a broken tooth, Bill looked at Draco levelly, not showing even a hint of regret. Draco was momentarily reminded of Philander, cool and unaffected, really believing the horrible garbage Nott was sprouting. "Yes," the redhead said simply.

Draco took one step closer. "You sent Harry to Nott?"

"Yes," Bill said again, his hands calmly by his sides. "It's for his own good. He should see all the wonderful things Theodore can do with Harry's help. They can remove so much evil from the world, Draco!"

Sparks flew out from the wands Draco was clenching, angry, red sparks. "You sent Harry," he whispered, "to a murdering madman and say to me you did it 'for his own good'? You practically condemned him to his certain death or at the very least, insanity, and then you stand there, claiming it was 'for his own _good_'? You betrayed him, that's what you did, you betrayed him even though he trusted you, loved you like a member of his family!"

Draco was breathing hard and he was trembling from fury._ How dare he – how dare he!_

For a moment, there was something akin to guiltiness in Bill's eyes, but he stood his ground. "You have to understand, Draco, that the world will be a better place when Theodore succeeds. Then we _all_ will have the equality we deserve."

Draco had trouble hearing through the gush of blood in his ears. "You son of a bitch," he growled, slamming Bill viciously against the hedge and stabbing with one wand at his vulnerable neck hard enough to leave a bruise. "Where is he, Bill? Where is Harry? Where did you sent him?"

Ignoring the wand digging into his flesh, Bill just watched him serenely. "Even if I could tell you, I wouldn't." He gave a wry smile. "Theodore's magic truly is something."

Draco stared at him for a brief moment. "You really believe him, don't you?" he flatly asked. "You believe that shit of 'making the world better'. You don't care how many innocents have been killed because of his _quest_."

"Yes, well." Bill's lips tightened. "Those deaths may be unacceptable, but the results we can some day harvest – it will be magnificent, Draco. Imagine, a world where everyone is equal, despite your blood's purity. It doesn't matter if you're a werewolf or a wizard or a half-being, there is no prejudice, no judgement."

"You're living in a dream world, Bill" Draco said coldly. He wanted to punch Bill until there was nothing left of him, he wanted to curse him until he begged for mercy, he wanted to make him see sense – but he knew it was to no use. Bill had been converted into believing Nott's cruel mission was not only unimpeachable but possible, as well.

"Be that as it may, by delivering Harry to Theodore, I have made him realize the power they can have to change the world. With Harry's influence and strength, they will be unstoppable – and our word will be listened to."

A branch snapped into two somewhere.

"Son, what have you _done_?"

Startled, Draco whirled around. There, within hearing distance, stood most of the Weasleys, Hermione and Remus. Draco hadn't heard them approaching, so focused he had been on Bill, and he had no idea how long they had been there. Shock and disbelief was written all over their faces - Draco knew they may not have heard everything, but enough.

"He sent Harry to Nott," Draco said monotonously, his wand arm never wavering. "He petrified me, stunned Harry with some potion he injected into him and sent him off with a Portkey."

The lunch basket Mrs. Weasley was holding fell to the ground from her slackened grip.

* * *

Slowly, he came to, disoriented and confused, muddled half-thoughts racing around his clouded mind.

It was the raw cold Harry noticed first. The air was chilly around him and the hard, unyielding ground was radiating coldness under his stiff body, making him shiver. In addition to that, he felt so horribly woolly-headed it was making his stomach hurt.

_What had happened?_

Hazy images flew past his closed eyes and he had difficulties focusing on any of then. A flash of green – the garden at the Burrow? A terrifying feeling of dread and of pure horror made his head spin nauseatingly. Someone leaning over him, hauling him away from... from Draco.

_Bill. Draco._

With a gasp, the memories flooded him and he sat up, trying to get to his feet in a mad dash. There was something holding him down, however, dragging him straight back against the cold ground with a painful jostle. Letting out a frustrated howl, he grabbed that something, trying to tear it apart with all his might.

"Don't bother," someone said nearby in a dryly amused voice that made the hairs on Harry's neck stand up. "They're magically enhanced chains of my own making. There is simply no way to break them."

Harry looked at the direction of the voice, snarling. A man of his age was casually leaning against a large rock, eyeing him with a light smile. It had been years, but Harry still recognized Nott. "_You_!" he spat, making a lunge towards the man, only to be yanked back by the thin wire that loosely bound his wrists together and connected them both to the ground into where it seamlessly sank. There was a glow of magic surrounding the wire that was just long enough for him to stand, and every time Harry gave it an aggressive yank, it sent painful sparks of fire into his skin.

"Release me," he hissed to Nott, his fingers curling into fists. "_Now_."

"I think not, Harry," Nott said with a shake of his head. "I didn't go through all the trouble of getting you here just to let you loose."

Harry's vision was blotched with darkness and he snarled again, snapping his teeth in desperation. "What did you do to Draco?"

Nott raised a nonchalant eyebrow. "That blond twit?" He shrugged. "I let Bill to decide what to do with him. Get rid of him, do some memory trick, I don't particularly care."

_Get rid of him._

The words echoed in Harry's ears, painful in their clarity.

_Get rid of him. _

Harry lost his newly found balance and he tripped over, sagging to the ground. His wings crushed against something rough behind him, but he couldn't move.

_No_.

Struggling to breath normally, Harry placed his palm against the cold ground.

"Don't bother with that, either," Nott drawled.

With a growl, Harry tried to let loose some of his magic. Nothing happened, absolutely nothing. Not even a tingle. Harry slammed his hand down with a choked cry, breathing hard.

"Take a closer look at your wrists, Harry," Nott whispered, his voice like a pit of snakes, slithering, biting.

And Harry looked. Where his beloved promise bracelet should have been, there was a wide streak of onyx black encircling his wrist, like an ugly tattoo that hummed with magic. The same had happened to his other hand. Both held some sort of magic controlling bands that didn't allow even a hint of Harry's magic flow past.

He was rendered helpless – he couldn't perform magic, he couldn't use his physical strength, he didn't have Draco to rely on. _Oh, god, Draco._

What if he was... dead?

_No_. He would sense if Draco was dead. There would be a hole in the world, a large, gaping hole that could never the repaired.

The darkness washed over him in painful waves that made him arch his back. He needed Draco, he needed Draco so bad it _hurt_. He gasped from the pain, gritting his teeth together as his vision began to blur like a foggy window. Emotions swirled inside his mind in a wild dance, battling for dominance.

His inner Valerius was clawing its way up to the surface, shredding and destroying.

"No!" Harry choked out, drawing in a ragged breath that felt like acid in his lungs. He struggled to stand up, weakly clinging to the wall of rock, his fingers digging into the small, rough edges forcefully enough to draw blood.

There was a hand in his hair, petting gently. "Shush, Harry, it will be alright."

But the hand was not Draco's and the touch burned, making Harry flinch away. He still embraced the wall, futilely fighting against the descending darkness that swooped down on him like a giant hunting bird with its sharp beak and claws extended. Slowly but surely, Harry felt as if he was drowning as the Valerius side of him began to take control.

Suddenly, something cold pressed against his lips. Harry turned away, snarling and panting, but the hand in his hair took a tighter hold, twisting a handful of his hair until Harry's head was dangerously tilted backwards and he gasped, his eyes rolling in his head. Bitter liquid poured down his throat, uncontrollably spilling all over his chin and chest where it stung his skin. Harry sputtered, coughing.

"There," a voice murmured, smooth like a razor-sharp knife covered with a cloth of silk. "Drink and be _mine_. Mine to control, mine to have."

And just like that, Harry was no more.

Gone was the kind and courageous wizard who who wore his heart in his sleeve. Gone was the strong man who would do anything to protect his loved ones. Gone was the King of Gryffindor, the Boy-Who-Lived.

In his place, stood a hunched Valerius with black, glittering eyes and a snarl on his lips, growling low in his throat.

"Excellent," Nott whispered. "Harry... look at me."

Black eyes snapped to him at the command, wild but submissive.

Nott smiled in satisfaction.

* * *

The atmosphere in the Burrow was tense. Even the ghoul in the attic was deathly quiet.

Draco couldn't remember a previous time when the house wasn't filled with mad ruckus and people carelessly rushing in and out, laughing, joking, having a good time. A happy time.

But now... Now, there were teary eyes, tightly clenched jaws, crossed arms, drawn faces filled with despair. Disbelief hung in the air like an invisible curtain, so thick it was almost hard to breath.

Fred and George stood in the doorway, rigid, their faces avoid of any joviality. Ginny had her arm around her mother. The younger of the women had a hard look in her brown eyes, a look of betrayal, while Mrs. Weasley kept dabbing at her reddened eyes with a tissue. Ron and Hermione stood together, pale and haggard. Ron's wand arm kept twitching, uncontrollably tapping against his thigh.

Unable to stop himself from stalking back and forth in the kitchen, anxious and queasy, unable to just sit down and rest, Draco didn't see Remus who was behind him, but he could hear the werewolf restlessly shifting his weight from one foot to another, the floor creaking from time to time.

And at the end of the kitchen table, sat the man who Draco had difficulties to look in the eye anymore because of the lost respect. Besides, Draco felt a strong urge to rip Bill apart with his bare hands every time he glanced at him and he had to admit _that_ wouldn't be so wise at the moment.

Mr. Weasley was seated on the other side of his son, his forehead burrowed and his mouth a tight line of great disappointment and worry. Kingsley, who had arrived the moment a frantic Hermione had firecalled him, sat across the table, a grave look on his face.

"Why, Bill, why?" Mr. Weasley kept repeating in obvious disbelief, shaking his head. "Harry is like a brother to you, he's part of our family, and you betrayed his trust, _our_ trust, in a most gruesome way possible." His hands on the table balled into fists. "Why, Bill?"

Bill was gazing at his father calmly, seemingly not caring that he was facing the hatred of his own family over his actions. "I told you already. You may not see it yet, but Theodore is making this world a better place. For all of us," he added. His eyes flickered towards Remus momentarily. "For _everyone_."

"But you're not making any sense, Bill," Mr. Weasley argued, sounding almost desperate.

Desperate to see some good in his son. Desperate to get Bill realize what he had done was wrong.

Desperate to understand _why_.

"You are a Weasley. Our family doesn't condone the use of violence, in any occasion." Mr. Weasley's voice nearly broke. "You are against everything we believe, everything we have taught you."

Bill bowed his head, his hands clasped in his lap. His wand was secured with Kingsley. "I am aware of that, father, and I do apologize for shaming you. But I did what I did for good reasons. I am not ashamed of what I have done."

Draco couldn't bear being quiet anymore. "You're not ashamed when we finally find Harry?" he poisonously hissed. "You're not ashamed when we find what's left of him? You know how he is if he's left alone - he'll lose the battle with the darkness. If we ever find him..." He had to turn away, breathing hard and swallowing convulsively. "If we find him, he's not Harry anymore. And I don't know if we can ever bring him back."

A hesitant hand touched his shoulder gently. "I can't promise you everything will be okay," Hermione whispered, her voice hoarse. "But we'll do _everything_ we can. You have my word."

Draco nodded stiffly, still looking away, his eyes burning as if they were on fire.

"Bill..." Kingsley stepped in, cool and precise. "When did you first have contact with Theodore Nott?"

"He approached me maybe a year back. We talked and I understood we shared a lot of thoughts. We wanted the same things."

"And what is that?"

"Equality. Fair treatment for everybody. An uncorrupted Ministry."

"You call killing dozens of innocent people fair?" Ron roughly snapped, his eyes ablaze. Hermione grabbed his hand, squeezing, and he fell silent, his shoulders hunched.

Bill flinched just a little at Ron's outburst, but his posture was still proud and straight. "There are always casualties when you want to achieve something good."

Ron stared at him. "I don't even know you anymore," he said flatly with a sad shake of his head. "And I don't think I will want to."

_I guess the blood is not always thicker, after all. _Draco felt a pang of sadness at how not only he had lost his best friend, Ron had also lost his brother.

Clearing his throat, Kingsley tried to get the conversation back on track. "Have you been to where Nott keeps his camp?"

"No. We communicate mainly by owl, I haven't even seen any of Theodore's forces."

"And you have been leaking information to him for a year now?" Kingsley's eyes narrowed. "What kind of information?"

Bill shrugged. "Since I'm just an Auror instructor, I don't have access to the important stuff, so not much. Names of the Ministry employees who would definitely be against our mission, people who might be on our side, that kind of details."

Realization dawned in Kingsley's eyes. _He's the one who told Nott who to target in their attacks,_ Draco thought. A horrible nausea made him almost retch out his breakfast right onto the shiny floor.

"What did Nott offer in exchange?" Kingsley's voice had gone quiet, deathly quiet. "What did he offer to you?"

For the first time, Bill looked vaguely uncomfortable. He fidgeted in his seat.

"What did he offer?" Kingsley forcefully repeated, leaning over the table as if he was preparing to haul Bill from his chair right across it. "Money? A high position in his new government?"

"No," Bill finally blurted. He looked at the table for a moment, his face alive with emotions. "No money, no promotion," he whispered harshly. "He promised Fleur would be alright."

Kingsley drew back, bemused. "Fleur Delacour, your fiancée?"

"Yes."

Mr. Weasley frowned in confusion. "But... Isn't she on vacation?"

Bill swallowed, his hands trembling. "No, she's not. She's... The Ministry deported her, banished her and told her never return or she would be imprisoned."

"_What_?"

"That's outrageous, they can't do that!"

"Why haven't you _told_ us?"

Kingsley sighed as people were gaping and sputtering. "It's because of her Veela-blood, am I correct?"

"Yes," Bill murmured. "See, I want her to live without _fear_. I don't want her to keep looking over her shoulder like she's doing now, scared out of her mind that the Ministry will come after her even though she escaped to France." He looked around, a shadow of bitterness on his face. "And I've seen how people look at _me_ in the Ministry, when they see the scars and recognize where they've come from. They shy away from me, muttering, pointing. It's only a matter of time when they will throw me into a cell, as well." He looked at Remus again. "They will collect everybody who's not purely human and get rid of them. Don't you see? They're afraid of us!" he exclaimed with vigour, a spark of defiance in his eyes. "They can't _stand_ any kind of abnormality, no differences are tolerated! And Theodore..." His gaze grew brighter again. "He promised to help us. He promised we shouldn't be afraid. We should stand up and fight for our rights. We will _not_ cower and hide."

_Manipulation, pure manipulation. _

Draco shook his head.

_Nott always was good in manipulating and controlling those weaker than him, even at school._

_And now it is Bill who has fallen for his net of lies and false promises like a helpless, gullible fly captured by a venomous spider. _


	13. Abyss

_**Summary**_: Having Harry Potter locked up as a dangerous beast, the Ministry shows no signs of gratitude for the Defeater of Voldemort. Until there is a new threat to be considered...

_**Warnings**_: Violence (perhaps even some gore), Cursing, Established Relationship (HPDM), Character Death

_**Disclaimer**_: Not mine but Rowling's.

**A/N: **Beta'd by Cam's talent. I do apologize for the shortness of this chapters.

* * *

**Chapter XIII – Abyss**

Black like the darkest stones found in the world, black like coal.

Black like onyx, viciously gleaming.

Bottomless, empty black that made you want to turn your head away and stare, unmoving, at the same time.

That was the colour of the eyes of the creature that moved like a shadow, effortlessly stalking, slithering and gliding through the makeshift pathways. Its progression was soundless as if it didn't exist at all, but the ones who saw it, passing their huts and tents, never could turn their gaze away, warily tracking its movements with fearful eyes.

Some whispered, some pointed their fingers. Some retreated into the depths of their dwellings, some crept closer in their curiosity. But the ghostly creature never cared, it acknowledged no-one.

No-one but the man it followed like the shadow it was, of course.

Few would have recognized the creature as Harry Potter. It was hard to associate the kind-hearted, proud Gryffindor with the wild magical creature that trailed after Nott like a wraithlike dog, head bowed and shoulders hunched. The spark of independence was gone, his fiery spirit smothered like a handful of wet sand thrown on a small flame.

But even though Harry was obviously subdued, his free will brutally imprisoned, he wasn't _tame_. Oh, no. There was still wildness in his eyes, wildness that craved to be let loose and roam the land and the sky. Raw need to just _go _and desperation because he couldn't.

And perhaps that was the reason why his hands were still bound by the thin, magically enforced wire rope, the other end of which was securely held by Nott.

_Chained like a mutt, _Daniel sadly thought as he watched the pair of them approach Theodore's cave. The werewolf had seen the empty look in Potter's eyes, the submissive gestures, the wilting of Potter's inner flame. It didn't make him crow with joy. _No-one_ deserved to loose their free will like that, the ability to make their own choices and do what they pleased. It was pure cruelty and not exactly what Daniel himself stood by.

He wasn't comfortable watching Theodore enslave someone, especially when that someone was their own kind, but really, what could he do?

"Daniel," Theodore greeted pleasantly with a brief tug of the chain that didn't quite send Potter stumbling because of his natural grace, but made him snarl in clear annoyance. "Where are your manners, Harry? Say hello to our friend."

It seemed that Potter had lost the ability talk in his current state. He merely bared his teeth, quickly ducking his head, however, when Theodore jerked the wire rough enough for Potter's hands to bruise. The unknown potion Theodore had used had seriously messed with Potter's head, of that Daniel was certain of. _There is no other way Potter would be submissive to __**anyone**__._

Then again, from what Daniel had gathered, there would be no-one left alive in the camp if Potter weren't under the influence of the potion. _We're the only thing standing between him and his mate – we'd be dead in seconds_. Daniel suspected that the same potion made Potter forget his pack and mate; he wouldn't be so docile otherwise.

_It's the potions Theodore learned to make after he dropped out of school. Powerful potions full of dark, forbidden magic. _

"Theodore," Daniel said calmly back, nodding. He only glanced at Potter, not wanting to see the hollow eyes that held none of the spark they had the last time they had seen in Diagon Alley.

"I just took Harry for a walk," Theodore continued, lightly caressing Potter's wing that shivered under the unwelcome touch. "Let him stretch his legs a little."

Squashing down the uncomfortable feeling in his throat, Daniel raised an eyebrow. "I'm sorry, are you talking about a pet dog I've never seen or Potter?"

Theodore barked with laughter and Daniel noticed Potter flinched at the sound. "Harry would make a _wonderful_ pet," Theodore said, his teeth flashing in a predatory way. "He just needs some training."

Daniel forced himself to grin back. "Of course."

"Now, let's get inside, shall we? It's almost dinner time."

Daniel had somehow lost his appetite, but since they had been eating dinner together for weeks, it would look suspicious if he drew back now. Taking in the last gulp of fresh air, he climbed over the fallen trunk and followed Theodore and Potter inside Theodore's cave.

Swiftly, Theodore connected Potter's chain onto the ground so that Potter had to sit down for a comfortable position. Dark wings gathered around his wiry form like a blanket, as if the Valerius wanted to hide from plain view, leaving just a tuft of unruly hair visible. If it hadn't been for the occasional tremors running through the feathers, Daniel would have thought Potter had died suddenly, so immobile he was.

_Like a stuffed animal, devoid of life._

Daniel turned away.

"Deer or fish?" Theodore asked from the other side of the cave where he kept his food, preserved by multiple charms. While the others survived mainly with what the surrounding forest could offer them, Theodore had always more or less variable food items available. "I think there might be some pork left, as well."

"Deer sounds good today," Daniel replied in an absent-minded manner, heavily sitting down on one of the smooth stones that magic had carved into the vague shape of a chair. _Funny, how everybody else is forbidden to use excess magic to keep our location as safe as possible._

"Rare?"

"Naturally."

Soon, they both had plates on their laps filled with slices of meat and potatoes. The meat that used to fill Daniel's senses with its savoury aromas tasted like ashes in his mouth and he frowned.

"Something the matter?" Theodore's tone was lightly questioning with a hint of suspicion just underneath. "You've been awfully quiet today."

"I'm not feeling that well," Daniel allowed, taking another bite of the meat. "Some young wolf had a high fever yesterday, I might have caught something."

Theodore's sharp eyes softened just a little to show he had relaxed again. "That's unfortunate. I hope you will be feeling better soon."

"I'm sure it'll pass soon or later," Daniel said as breezily as possible. After a few mouthfuls of food that should have tasted heavenly, he couldn't help himself; his eyes strayed over to where Potter was sitting like some horrid doll. He forced himself to wrench his gaze away, desperate for something else to think about. "So what happened to Weasley?"

He had been told about Bill Weasley's involvement in Potter's delivery just moments before Potter had appeared, and he had been shocked. Having not met anyone from the redheaded clan but having heard that they were practically Potter's adoptive family and so saint-like they pretty much had gold inside their veins, he was still floored that it had been one of them that had betrayed Potter.

_I guess no-one is above corruption._

Theodore shrugged nonchalantly, neatly cutting his large piece of fish into smaller pieces and piercing them with his fork. "He got caught."

Alarmed, Daniel looked up. "Won't that compromise us?"

"He doesn't know anything of real importance," Theodore said calmly. "He's disposable."

_Disposable._

Theodore had started to use that word quite a lot. Against his will, Daniel wondered whether he himself was catalogued under disposable, as well.

It was raining.

* * *

Not enough to be described as downpour, but soft drops of water that made the air humid. The sky was light grey like the purest of silver, glowing as if the sun was fighting to get through.

Draco sat in his favourite place in the garden, surrounded by lilies of all colours imaginable and large ferns that gently swayed back and forth, commanded by the droplets of rain. He didn't care that his light robes were slowly getting moist, soaking up the rain like thirsty animals, and that his hair fell down over his face in wet wisps. Seeing nothing, he stared at the horizon, hands neatly folded in his lap.

"_I don't know where Theodore has Harry. He never mentioned it to me, out of fear that I get captured, I guess."_

The rain made the grass glister like someone had sprinkled diamond dust all over it. In a way, it looked beautiful. Innocent and hopeful.

_Mr. Weasley shook his head, his eyes jaded. "Why, Bill? Harry's a part of our family. How could you betray your family like this?"_

Softer and softer the rain got.

"_You killed him, that's what you did!" Ginny shouted, her face twisted with anger and grief. "You condemned him to certain death. You're a murderer, Bill."_

A bird started its song somewhere, the melodic sound easily carrying over the fields of grass as the last of the rain drops fell. The air smelled fresh, sweet and sour at the same time.

_A sombre Kingsley took a hold of Bill's arm, steering him out of the Burrow to be Apparated to the Ministry. A small herd of people inside watched them go, distraught and clinging to each other. _

The clouds began to part like pieces of a puzzle slowly collapsing, leaving glimpses of cerulean blue in their wake.

"_Are you sure you'll be fine by yourself, Draco?" Hermione asked. She was pale and drawn, her eyes puffy. "You know you can stay with us... Until Harry is found."_

Rays of sunshine crept down, hesitant at first, as if they were afraid of being repelled by the glistering grass. But after encountering no resistance, the golden light got steadfastly brighter and warmer.

"_I'll be fine." Draco knew his voice was empty, hollow like a carved pumpkin with a grimace of death on it. "I just want to be alone for a moment. Let me know if Kingsley gets something more out of Bill."_

The bewitching scent of lilies grew stronger all around him, enticing his senses. Draco closed his eyes as the sun began to warm his soaked clothes, his insides being left cold and murky like a chunk of ice.

He felt as if he was having a dream, a horrid nightmare, and a part of him expected to be woken up by gentle kisses brushed against his shoulder any time now. Harry would be there, love in his eyes as he gazed at him with a small half-smile curling his lips, asking what was wrong.

But the bigger part of him knew it wasn't going to happen. The more realistic, crueller part.

Harry was not there. He was with Nott, the man whose location was unknown. He was with the man who would want Harry for his dark powers, for his powerful magic that could wipe out legions of Aurors from its path. Nott wanted an _ally_ from Harry, unwilling or not.

And unwilling Harry would be, the real Harry. He would be trapped forever in the darkness, drowned by it, _consumed_ by it.

"Good grief, Draco, why are you sitting here, drenched by the rain?"

Draco's eyes snapped open at the voice, soft and smooth like velvet. He blinked.

Narcissa Malfoy stood in front of him, her exquisite blue robes shimmering in the direct sun light. Her pale hair, like silk, curled down to her waist and on her beautiful face there was a shadow of concern and subtle affection that could be easily lost if one blinked. She looked at him, her silvery eyes dark in their intensity.

"Mother?" Draco couldn't quite keep the shock at bay from his voice. "What are you doing here?"

Deftly ignoring the question, Narcissa gestured with her hand towards the bench. "May I sit?"

Draco gave a terse nod and watched as his mother charmed the bench completely dry before elegantly seating herself down, her ankles crossed. A perfect image of a proper lady. "How did you get past the wards?" he asked, careful to keep his tone blank this time.

She answered his hard stare levelly, her composed expression never changing. "I imagine your outer wards are designed to keep those people out who have harmful intentions." Momentarily, a slight smile played on her lips. "As you can see, I bear no such intentions."

_I must have not heard the chime the wards use to notify me when someone passes through the wards._ Draco clenched his jaw. "Again, I ask you. What are you doing here, mother?"

There was a small moment of silence as Narcissa regarded him solemnly. "I heard of what happened to... Mr. Potter."

Draco sneered. "Oh, so _now_ you come here offering your sympathies? It's a bit late for that, isn't it?" he spat. "You ran away, mother, you ran away like a coward and left us here. You _abandoned_ me."

_flashback – a year before Voldemort was defeated_

_There was a suitcase on Narcissa's bed that a small crowd of house elves was hurriedly stuffing with the content of her large wardrobes. Several others waited on the floor, already packed. The room was beginning to look empty, soulless, impersonal – the priceless collection of jewellery that had been on display on the dressing table was gone, as were the beautiful bottles of perfume and other personal items. _

_Narcissa had her travelling cloak over her silken robes and she stood in the middle of the room, her back straight and a determined glint in her eyes. "I am sorry, Draco, but I have no place here any longer."_

"_So you're leaving now?" Draco's voice was hard like steel, his eyes narrowed. "You're deserting us when we really are in need of allies?"_

_Her face softened, but just a little. "What could I possibly do, Draco? I am merely the lady Malfoy, the widow of a deceased Death Eater. I have no power here."_

"_You could stay for _me_. For me and Harry."_

"_Draco... " Narcissa took a small step towards Draco, but the forbidding look on her son's face seemed to make her reconsider. "You are precious to me. You are my only son and I love you dearly." She hesitated a brief moment. "And Mr. Potter is a fine young man and I am happy you have found true love. But you do not need me here, Draco. You can carry on without me, I am but a burden for you at the moment."_

"_We're at _war_, mother," Draco whispered harshly. "We do need you here to support us through the dark times. _I_ need you here."_

_Narcissa smiled fleetingly. "I have no skills to be of use in a war. I must face the truth, no matter how unpleasant it is; the time of the Malfoys has passed."_

_Draco's face darkened even more. "So you're just running away when things get tough?"_

"_Draco, son." She sighed. "I do not have to justify my actions to you, I am a grown woman and can make my own decisions."_

"_The fact remains that you are leaving us here to fight alone, fleeing to safety yourself." Draco frowned. "Where are you going, anyway?"_

_Narcissa nodded to the house elves who had finished packing the last of the suitcases. In a flash, all the luggage disappeared. "To France. We have some distant relatives there, in addition to the Malfoy villa on the coast."_

_They were both quiet for a second, the silence thick and relentless between them._

"_I hope you have a fabulous time in France, then," Draco said, his voice growing colder. "We'll stay here and we _fight_. We do not give up."_

"_It's not giving up, Draco," she murmured. "It's called survival. I would not last here long, I cannot find protection and security from either sides and you know it."_

"_Harry would always -"_

"_Yes, Draco, I am aware that Mr. Potter can offer me sanctuary, but I couldn't bear to live underground, always afraid for my life." She smiled softly again. "You two have your places here, but I do not. It is time for me to move on."_

_Draco looked away, out of the window that showed the magnificent gardens of the Malfoy Manor. "Fine. Go, then. Run away and have a nice, comfortable life. I'll be sure to send you a letter once we've got rid of Voldemort."_

_There was a rustle of clothes and something warm brushed against Draco's arm. Narcissa's __hand rested on his shoulder. "I do wish things were different," she said quietly, without guilt. "But alas, they are not. Be well, my beloved dragon."_

_And then she was gone as if she had never existed, leaving behind an empty room where her rosy perfume still lingered on. _

_end of flashback_

"I did what I had to do, Draco."

"You _left_ me." Draco knew he sounded pathetic, but he didn't care.

She had that gentle, blink-and-you'll-miss-it smile on her lips. "You had Harry, my love. You weren't alone."

"Yes, I had Harry." Draco stared straight forward, into the lake that shimmered in the distance. Harry had loved the lake. He had loved watching the lake when it rained and the surface of the water was repeatedly broken by the drops of rain, he had loved watching the lake during sunset when the water would shine in brilliant colours like a gigantic phoenix, he had loved watching the lake when it snowed and the water was black, dotted with white. "I had him, back then."

"What happened, Draco?" She laid a hand on his thigh. "I received a worried letter from Miss Granger -"

"She's Granger-Weasley now," Draco said fatly, before her words sank in and he blinked. "Hermione _wrote_ to _you_?"

"She did, expressing her concern over you. She said someone took Mr. Potter yesterday, took him to Theodore Nott." Her eyes were as soft as they could ever be, ice melting around the edges. "Draco, love... I came here to support you, to help you in your distress."

"You're a couple of years too late," Draco bitterly replied. But his anger was slowly dripping away, the sense of helplessness washing over him once again. "And yes, Harry was taken to Nott. He... You know of... you know of what Harry has become?"

"I have read the newspapers," she murmured. "But what use is a Valerius to Nott?"

"Harry's a weapon to him." Draco gazed down and saw a tiny ant on the ground, fighting to get past the thick mass of grass. He felt he could relate to the insect's struggle. "And he doesn't care if he destroys Harry's mind in the process. Harry's not... " He swallowed. "He's not Harry anymore. He's there somewhere, suffocated, but there is no way for him to claw his way out alone. And I don't know how long he can last before there is no return for him."

"Oh, Draco." Her hand squeezed his thigh comfortingly. "Your people is looking for him, are they not?"

"Kingsley is doing his best," Draco said, mildly horrified by how hollow his voice was. "But I don't know if that's enough."

"My dragon..." She drew him closer, her arms surprisingly strong for such a slender woman. "Do not make the same mistake I did. Never lose hope, my dragon, never."

And just like that, all the remaining anger fled Draco like from a punctured balloon and he allowed himself to be comforted in his mother's arms where he knew he would not be judged for his weaknesses, not ridiculed for his display of emotions.

For the first time in a very long time, Draco cried.

* * *

The impenetrable darkness was all around him, wrapping itself around him so tight it was hard to breath, hard to think.

There was no light, nothing to grasp on. He was floating in a bottomless abyss where no reality existed. His senses were clogged; there was nothing to hear, nothing to smell, nothing to see.

Only one thought made him know he was still there, still holding on.

_Draco_.

But his hold was slowly slipping, as if he was trying to hang onto a melting chunk of smooth ice and soon, there would be nothing left to hang on to.

_Draco_.


	14. No Boundaries

_**Summary**_: Having Harry Potter locked up as a dangerous beast, the Ministry shows no signs of gratitude for the Defeater of Voldemort. Until there is a new threat to be considered...

_**Warnings**_: Violence (perhaps even some gore), Cursing, Established Relationship (HPDM), Character Death

_**Disclaimer**_: Not mine but Rowling's.

**A/N: **Still, the best beta ever: Cam.

* * *

**Chapter XIV – No Boundaries**

"Theodore, don't you think this is too much?"

Theodore's eyes flashed and Daniel took a small step back. "Do _not_ question my authority, Daniel, or it is you with whom I am dealing next. Are we clear?"

For a terse moment, Daniel held Theodore's red-hot gaze before lowering his eyes. Staring at the ground, angry at himself, he heard a snort of satisfaction over the miserable whimpers of the thin man cowering in front of Theodore. The man, supposedly, had tried to leave to camp to join the Ministry and Theodore had lashed out with formidable rage after hearing the rumours.

And now the whole camp had gathered together, forming a loose circle around their commander. Low murmurs rang in the air like the fluttering wings of a bird flock, the people restlessly shifting on their feet. Some had pity on their faces and some had fear, but most of them looked grim and vaguely accepting.

The alleged suspect, a weedy man in his thirties with ragged stubble covering his blood-stained chin, was slumped on his knees, swaying back and forth, his arms tightly wrapped around his upper torso. "Please, please," he kept murmuring, his voice but a croak, "I didn't do anything, I swear, I didn't."

Theodore didn't look that convinced. His eyes were hard, like pale marbles that radiated coldness. "Harry," he said, his voice low and vibrating. "Come here."

Daniel nearly forgot to breath. He suddenly knew what was going to happen.

A louder murmur resounded from the crowd, a few of people hastily retreating as Potter stepped forward like a dark, avenging angel, casting a great shadow on the kneeling man who let out a muffled shriek, trembling from head to toe.

And Daniel couldn't blame him – Potter made a terrible sight, his large eyes completely black and soulless, his mighty wings spread and his fangs bared in a gruesome snarl. Daniel fought back his wolf that struggled to emerge in response for the intimidating Valerius that crept towards the man, crouched low. The horror-struck man screamed in plain fright, seemingly frozen in his place.

_Oh Theodore... You are taking this too far. _

Potter stopped his advance when he reached Theodore's side, staring straight ahead like an empty-headed puppet awaiting for a command. His lips were still pulled back in a perpetual snarl and his shoulders were hunched. Bottomless eyes slowly slid to Theodore, unblinking.

"Kill him," whispered Theodore almost frenziedly, _eagerly_. "Kill that disloyal man, Harry."

Potter's head turned towards the pitiful man who looked like he was close to fainting and his face was so ghastly white it resembled chalk. "Kill him," Theodore urged again, stepping away to give more room for the Valerius.

A shudder ran through Potter's thinned torso and he let out a distressed growl, his head twitching as if he wanted to shake it in disagreement. There was a flash of green in his eyes, so quick and passing that Daniel was sure he had imagined the whole thing.

"_Kill_ _him_, Harry," Theodore hissed, his voice betraying a strong displeasure for the delay. "_Now_."

Everyone seemed to hold their breath, watching, as if hypnotized, when Potter finally snarled and lunged. The man on the ground didn't have the slightest of chances and his dead corpse fell heavily to the dust with a spray of fresh blood. The wet splatter that followed as the gush of blood hit the ground was sickening.

Daniel felt a sharp twinge of pain in his palms and bemused, he looked down. Without realizing it, he had balled his hands into fists to tightly his nails had dug into the flesh and almost drew blood.

"Let this be a lesson for all of you," Theodore said with a hint of satisfaction as he moved to discard the body with his wand. His narrowed eyes travelled through the gathered people who flinched under his gaze and they quickly looked away. "I do _not_ tolerate disobedience."

With that, he whirled around and marched away from the bloodied grass, but not before giving Potter a pleased pat on his head. "Take care of the pet, will you?" he muttered as he passed Daniel, their shoulders brushing. "I have some matters I have to attend to."

Daniel really didn't want to, but what choice did he have? "Of course."

"Do what Daniel says, Harry," Theodore said casually over his shoulder, flicking his hand to make Potter's wrists be bound together again before disappearing.

Potter remained standing where he was, his limp, blood-stained hands held together by the cord of magic. His gaze was horrifyingly empty as he stared at the ground, never moving.

Feeling suddenly drained, Daniel clapped his hands together to get the attention of the crowd still anxiously milling about. "Okay, people," he shouted, willing his voice to stay strong and unaffected. "Scatter, the lot of you. It's late already."

In a few minutes, the small clearing was nearly completely vacated. Camp fires began to crackle among the shaggy tents and huts, the orange light making everything look softer, but only on the outside. Underneath the fiery hues, Daniel still felt the chill of the night in his very bones.

With a sigh, he walked up to Potter, cautiously touching his arm. It felt cold and dead. "Come, Potter," he murmured, turning towards Theodore's cave. He didn't have to look back to see whether the Valerius actually followed; he heard the telltale swish of feathers rustling trailing after him.

_Like he even _could_ resist a direct command._

Once they reached the cave, Daniel ordered Potter to go to the corner he always used to inhabit whenever Daniel saw him in Theodore's dwelling. Soundlessly, Potter obeyed and gracefully sat down on the hard floor, his wings ready to curl around him.

"Stop," Daniel said suddenly and Potter froze, blinking. The wings twitched but slumped back down again. Swallowing, Daniel crouched in front of Potter, slowly fishing out a bottle of water and a worn piece of cloth from his cloak pocket. A shadow of a frown passed Potter's face but he didn't react otherwise as Daniel dampened the cloth with water and began to wipe away the blood from Potter's hands before it dried.

Daniel didn't know why he did it. It wasn't as if he somehow liked Potter or felt responsible; he supposed it was because he felt ashamed for Theodore's actions, unconsciously wanting to prove that he wasn't as bad as his boss was. And he pitied Potter, he really did.

So cleaned Potter's hands he did, carefully and quickly scrubbing away until all the blood was gone. He threw away the now dirtied cloth, hesitating as he grabbed the half-full bottle of water. "Are you... are you thirsty, Potter?"

He had never seen Theodore feed Potter or give him something to drink during the few days the Valerius had been there. But surely even Potter with his miraculous powers would have keeled over if kept without food or water for that long. Right?

There was, however, an starved light in Potter's eyes, just for a moment, but Daniel caught it. Saying nothing, he pushed the bottle towards Potter, who, after a few seconds, grabbed it and drained its whole content, quick as lightning. The emptied bottle clattered carelessly to the ground from where Daniel picked it up, tucking it away.

Potter curled into himself, his gaunt face hidden by the wings in no time, and he just sat there, a shivering bundle of feathers.

_No-one deserves this._

Letting out a jaded sigh, Daniel rose to his feet and left the cave, a heavy feeling in his stomach that he couldn't shake off.

* * *

The kitchen in Ron and Hermione's house was spotless and shiny, full of lively colours and smooth surfaces. Direct sunlight streamed in from the large window in the back, making the kitchen look bright and happy.

_It shouldn't be so, _Draco thought._ It should be dark and grim, with rough edges and painful darkness. _He looked down at the table, tracing his fingers against the flawless wood. _The whole __world should feel the same way I do, dead and hollow on the inside_.

"Have you slept at all, Draco?" Hermione's voice broke through his morbid thoughts. "You look dreadful."

Draco cast a cursory glance at her. She was pale, her hair in messy knots and there were dark smudges under her eyes. "I could say the same for you."

A fleeting smile with no humour whatsoever passed through Hermione's lips. "Yes, well, I suppose none of us are able to sleep at the moment, given the circumstances."

"_Given the circumstances_?" Draco repeated blankly. "Fucking hell, Hermione, can't you just say Harry's gone and we'll never probably find him? You're just avoiding the reality."

She flushed, her eyes narrowing angrily. "I'm not _avoiding_ he reality," she snapped and crossed her arms. "Maybe I just don't want to act all hopeless and miserable and waffle in self-pity, like you."

Now it was Draco's turn to feel the hotness creep up his cheeks. "There's this thing called being realistic," he sneered. "I wouldn't expect you to understand it."

Hermione stared at him, incredulous. "So you've just given him up already, just like that?" She shook her head, wild curls bouncing everywhere. "Of all people, I would have thought you were the one who believes in -"

"Believes in what, Hermione?" Draco interrupted sharply, his eyes cold. "That somehow, Nott decides to surrender and return Harry with us? That we suddenly have a break-through and find out his location? That we're able to reach Harry before he goes permanently insane?"

She drew back, as if stung. Draco felt a pang of regret as her eyes turned glassy from tears, but she blinked them away in a flash, the hurt in her expression melting into fury. "Well _forgive_ me if I want to think that Harry's not gone yet." She stood, the movement so rough the chair almost toppled, screeching as it slid on the floor. "You self-righteous little _prick_. Harry's in bad trouble and all you can do is being nasty and unhelpful on the whole. If he knew... "

She had turned her back towards Draco as she stood in front of the fridge, but he knew she was gazing at that old photo of Harry attached to the home appliance. Her shoulders trembled.

Draco sighed. "Listen, Hermione... I'm sorry, alright?" He struggled for words. "I don't want to give up, but I guess I thought that if I'm not overly optimistic, the blow may not be so hard should the worst happen. I... I just don't want to lose him, Hermione."

He was presented with Hermione's profile as her head turned. "Oh, Draco," she muttered, her tone already softened. She walked back and pressed a gentle kiss on Draco's forehead. "You haven't lost him yet. There's still time."

_There's everything but time._ Nevertheless, Draco nodded, inhaling deeply. "Yeah."

Hermione sat back down and there was a moment of silence. "So," she then said quietly, as if testing the strength of her voice. "How was your mother?"

Draco gave a cursory shrug of his shoulders. "She was fine. Pleased to be home again."

"You aren't upset that I wrote her?" She was biting her lip worriedly. "I just thought that you were so distraught and wouldn't talk to us and all... "

"No, no, I'm not upset," Draco said, offering Hermione a small smile. "It's fine."

And it really was. No matter how much he had tried to deny it, he had missed his mother terribly and seeing her alive and well felt as if a wound inside of him started to finally heal. Her departure had made him feel betrayed and angry, but now he understood her reasons to leave, as well. He may have not liked the reasons, but he understood them nevertheless and accepted them.

_There really was no place for Malfoys back then._ Sometimes, Draco wondered what would have become of him if he hadn't fell in love with Harry – would he, too, have fled his home and settled down somewhere else? Or even worse, would he have joined Voldemort?

Draco shivered.

"Where is she staying?" Hermione asked, oblivious of Draco's guessing games. "At your house?"

"Oh, no. She moved back to the Manor, fully intent on renovating it."

Draco had left the Malfoy Manor after graduation and moved in with Harry in their new house that he was determined to fill with good memories and happiness. He had never cared much for the Manor that was too grand and intimidating, a house of darker times, but he never sold it. _Too much attachments, I suppose, to really get rid of it._ Because despite everything, it was the house in where he had grown up, the house that had belonged to the Malfoys for centuries.

Hermione grinned wryly. "She has a lot to do, then, given that the Manor has been abandoned for so long." She hesitated, nibbling on her lip. _Just like Harry._ "And... is she going to stay for good?"

"She's thinking about it, yes." Draco glanced out of the window, still vaguely amazed that the sun was shining outside like there was no worry in the world. "The name of a Malfoy is not in the gutter anymore, the way it was before the war."

She laid her hand over his hand, resting on the table, smiling softly. "Thanks to you."

"I -"

Suddenly, there was a bright flash of light that appeared right in front of Hermione like a miniature bolt of lightning that left both of them blinking in bemusement. The witch let go of Draco's hand, frowning, and swiftly grabbed the small piece of paper that floated in the air.

"It's from Ron," she murmured, her forehead burrowing before she dramatically paled.

The hairs in Draco's neck rose and he felt a cold chill running down his spine as if someone had dumped a glass of ice water on him. "What is it?" he demanded, instantly very afraid of what the reply would be.

"The Aurors have been called into battle," she choked out, her eyes painfully wide as she stared at the paper. "Nott's attacking some Muggle town again and... " She swallowed convulsively. "And he has Harry with him."

Draco rose so quickly his chair slammed against the wall with a resounding _bang_ that made Hermione wince. "Where?"

"There's – there's some coordinates -"

Snatching the paper from Hermione's trembling hands, Draco scanned the hastily written note and memorized the coordinates. With his stomach twisted into knots, he cast an expectant look on Hermione who remained seated. "Well, are you coming?"

"I think Ron meant that only you should go there." Her eyes were swimming with a mixture of emotions. "I would be just in the way."

Nodding, Draco started towards the door, but she caught his hand for a moment. "Be careful, Draco," she whispered shakily.

Again, Draco gave her a terse nod. "I will."

Then he was outside, swathed in warm sunshine and surrounded by the boisterous twitter of birds, and he Disapparated.

The scene he Apparated into was so opposite to the peaceful garden of the Weasley-Granger residence Draco felt a swoosh of disorientation. Screams of pain and fear, thick smoke and raging fires swallowing buildings whole, people running everywhere, desperately taking cover.

_The war all over again._

"Draco!"

He whirled around at the shout and saw Ron dashing towards him, his Auror robes flapping wildly as he ducked a ball of fire someone threw from the distance. "Draco," the redhead panted again, skidding to a halt.

"I got your message," Draco said urgently, drawing his wand. His eyes kept sweeping over the area, looking, _searching_. "Is Harry really here?"

"Yeah, he's – there!"

Anxious, Draco looked where Ron pointed.

_Dear mother of Merlin._

His knees felt suddenly weak, as if they were made of melting butter, and he nearly lost grip of his wand.

There, so far away that Draco had trouble seeing Harry clearly through the smoke, stood his beloved fiancé in a battle stance, his arms spread wide. He was dressed in dirty, torn rags, his alarmingly thinned form barely covered and even his wings looked drooped, as if he had no strength to hold them properly up anymore.

"Harry!" Acting on instinct, Draco made to dash forward, but Ron grabbed his arm, yanking him back.

"_Don't_", he warned with a rough voice, his face so drawn and pale his freckles stood out like dark dots of ink. He still held to Draco's arm with a fierce grip. "Look closer," he muttered, staring past Draco.

His legs twitching, aching to run over to Harry and swoop him down into his arms, away from all evil, Draco stilled and followed his gaze. A violent squeeze contracted his heart as he saw a some kind of wiry rope on Harry' left hand, tightly bound around his wrist – Draco's eyes followed the leash attached to it and he found Nott, standing a few feet away from Harry, the leash clutched in his hand.

Draco growled, seething. "He's so _dead_," he hissed, straining in Ron's grip.

"I second that. Let's try to get closer, but slowly."

And even though Draco yearned to run as fast as his feet could carry him, he followed Ron's lead and together, they crept stealthily forward, over the smouldering cars and burnt grass. _Where does the fire keep coming from?_

Nott said something, bending close, and Harry slammed his hands together. Instantly, huge flames appeared from out of nowhere and a nearby car was completely wrecked.

_Oh_.

Draco started to see more clearly. He saw Harry's gaunt face with streaks of soot, his black, unblinking eyes, his lips pulled back in a soundless snarl. He saw his stooped shoulders and his heavily falling and rising chest. He saw the satisfied curl on Nott's lips as he whispered something into Harry's ear again.

_Whoosh_. A storm of fire completely enveloped a small building at the end of the street. Draco could feel the tremendous heat on his skin and the smoke made his eyes prickle.

They were getting close, so _close_, sneaking alongside the wall of a local pub – then Harry gave a visible start, his head snapping towards them.

Draco forgot to breath as the bottomless, black eyes bore into him. _Harry, it's me!_ He wanted to cry out, desperate, but he didn't find his voice. It was somewhere stuck in his throat.

Even the time itself seemed to freeze. Draco stood still, as did Harry. Ron's hand was around Draco's upper arm, his fingers digging into his flesh and Nott stared at them, his face blank. The fire still roared around them, the spells still whizzed past them – but Draco didn't notice.

Then Nott's eyes darkened and he sneered, yanking at the leash. Harry flinched, stumbling as his hand was so forcefully jerked, and the eye contact was broken.

"Harry!" Draco shouted, suddenly finding his voice once more. He brandished his wand, fully intent on cursing Nott into next year, and gave a matching sneer at the former fellow Slytherin. "Harry -"

There was a ripple in the air and then Nott and Harry were gone, leaving nothing but chaos and destruction behind.

Draco howled.

* * *

The dusk had settled in and the kitchen was getting darker by the second. A gust of wind rattled the window shutters outside, the sound sharp but hollow.

Draco didn't bother lighting up the room as he sat there, emptily staring at the wooden table like it held all the salvation in the world. Why would he turn on the lights, when he felt so dark inside?

Harry's face haunted him, the look in those black eyes when their eyes had met – there had been a spark of something, a sparkle of despair and _life_.

_So close, yet so far._

If he had just ignored Ron and ran straight forward, if he hadn't dallied... Would Harry be home now, shaken but alive and safe?

_No_. Wearily, Draco shook his head. _No._ _I'd be probably dead by now, hit by a stray curse._

"Is master Draco needing something?" a hesitant voice squeaked by his elbow and Draco glanced down at the house elf. "It is late but Twinkly could make some soup -"

Draco shushed the elf with a wave of his hand. "No, thank you, Twinkly," he murmured. "I'm fine. You can go to rest."

The elf still hesitated, wringing her tiny hands. "Is master Draco certain?"

Draco gave her a tired smile. "I am certain, Twinkly. Thank you."

Giving Draco a look that resembled the look Mrs. Weasley directed at her children when she knew they were lying, Twinkly finally disappeared and it was blissfully quiet again.

Draco knew he should go to bed. He would need his strength because tomorrow, he would turn every rock upside down until he found Nott and shred him to pieces. Tomorrow, he would stop waffling in self-pity and actually _do_ something. He was done sitting his days and nights alone in the darkness, thinking of what could have happened if something had been done the other way.

But he wasn't tempted by the big bed upstairs, the bed that remained empty and cold.

Draco sighed, about to drop his head to his hands when a flash of light illuminated the room for a short moment – _Merlin, I hate the way Aurors deliver messages. _He grabbed the note, suspended in the air, and opened it.

_Draco,_

_get out of the house. The Ministry is coming for you._

_K.S_

The paper slipped free from his hands, floating to the table. _Shit_. His wand, where was his wand?

Draco's chair clattered to the floor as the back door was suddenly blown up and pieces of wood and glass flew everywhere like missiles, hitting the walls and taking down everything in their path. Shadowy figures moved into the house and Draco scrambled for his wand that he had carelessly left loitering about -

There was a swoosh of air as a bolt of light hit him and he knew no more.


	15. Happiness Is Not For Us

Summary

: Having Harry Potter locked up as a dangerous beast, the Ministry shows no signs of gratitude for the Defeater of Voldemort. Until there is a new threat to be considered...

_**Warnings**_: Violence (perhaps even some gore), Cursing, Established Relationship (HPDM), Character Death

_**Disclaimer**_: Not mine but Rowling's.

**A/N: **Thank you all for everything! is seriously having some issues with me at the moment since I cannot reply to your reviews, but I do appreciate every comment.

* * *

**Chapter XV – Happiness Is Not For Us**

They say mothers have this special instinct that tells them if something is wrong with their children, and currently, Narcissa Malfoy was feeling that particular instinct. It had woken her up in the middle of the night and she could find solace in sleep no more.

It was settled in her stomach like a heavy weight, gnawing lightly around her insides, and it made her walk even faster through the field of grass that was still misty from the early morning and made the hem of her robes damp and cold. Usually, she would have stopped at that point and cast a permanent drying charm on her robes, but the worry edged her on relentlessly, giving no time to pause.

The feeling got even worse when no-one answered the door when she knocked. Pressing a hand to her fluttering heart, she swiftly got off the porch and walked around the house, looking for the back door. But to her dismay, there was no back door left – just blackened door frames that gaped open like a huge pit ready to swallow anyone trespassing whole.

Rushing forward, Narcissa clambered through the hole in the wall. "Draco? _Draco_?"

There was an answer to her cries, but not from the one she hoped it would be. "Mistress Malfoy!" squawked a house elf, trembling as it stood in the middle of wayward chunks of wood and shards of glass.

"Where is Draco?" Narcissa asked, her voice tight. "Where is my son?"

The elf's ears drooped and its eyes were wide with anxiety. "Twinkly does not know where master Draco is. Twinkly heard a loud bang downstairs last night and when she came down, master Draco could not be found anywhere!"

Narcissa sank to the nearest chair as her knees suddenly felt weak as a kitten's, the realization hitting her full force. _Draco mentioned there were threatening letters from Ministry. Letters that told Potter Draco would be harmed if the job wouldn't be finished_. "Oh sweet Merlin."

She had had that devastating feeling before, many years ago, that horrible feeling that blasts you straight off your feet if your child goes missing.

_flashback – six years before Draco goes to Hogwarts_

_Narcissa lightly knocked on Draco's door. "Draco, sweetie, are you ready for the afternoon tea?" _

_There was no answer and she frowned. "There is no need to be rude, Draco, even if I did took your broom away. You shouldn't have plucked off those tail feathers from our peacocks."_

_When silence was still her only reply, she pushed the door open and stepped into the room. Her gaze travelled over the children-sized furniture, the humongous stuffed dragon by the bed, the magically charmed toy bricks that floated in the air, a few feet above the rug-covered floor. "Draco?"_

_Not seeing Draco in plain sight, Narcissa gave a long-suffering sigh and crossed the large room. "Aren't you a bit too old for hide-and-seek, Draco?" she asked, peeking into the bathroom and the wardrobe. Only when she couldn't find Draco even from under his bed, she started to worry. Absolutely certain that her son was not in his room, she swept out into the corridor, calling out for his personal house elf that appeared in front of her in a blink of an eye. _

"_Mistress Malfoy," beeped the tiny elf, bowing as low as it could possibly go. "How can Milly be of service?"_

"_Have you seen Draco?" she inquired impatiently, finding the urge to tap her foot against the floor irresistible._

_The elf managed to look confused. "Master Draco should be in his room, like good Mistress Malfoy ordered."_

"_I _know_ that," Narcissa snapped, "but he's not there."_

"_Then Milly is sorry, Mistress Malfoy, Milly does not know where Master Draco is," the house elf squeaked, eyeing her warily and wringing its hands together. "Shall Milly go searching for Master Draco?"_

"_Yes, yes. Search the East and South Wing, will you?"_

_Without waiting for her orders to be confirmed, she whirled around and set off to the other direction. She looked into every room on her way, but could not find Draco. Even his favourite sitting place in the library was empty, as were the kitchens where she knew Draco sometimes sneaked into to get some hot chocolate and biscuits._

_She was beginning to get more restless by the second, her heart thumping in her chest like a panicked butterfly as she encountered an empty room after another. "Draco? Draco, where are you?"_

_He had withdrawn like this when punished before, withdrawn to sulk and pout, but never had he been this hard to find before. Usually, he would have just gone to the kitchens to harass the elves until they gave him a treat after treat, but now he was nowhere to be found and Narcissa was getting anxious. She debated whether she should call Lucius who was in Germany on a business trip, but decided to check the grounds before making her husband worry, as well. _

_Soon, surrounded by the lush garden that blossomed all around her, she began her search, walking through Draco's every favourite place from the set of swings by the pond to the stables, but she couldn't see her little boy anywhere. Trying her best to not think about the dangers Draco could be facing if he had wandered off of the property – the Manor was encircled by a dark forest in where small boys had no business to venture, after all – Narcissa went further, treading alongside the further wards that kept unwanted company out, but no-one in. "Draco?"_

_Then, she heard it. The sweetest sound she had heard for ages. "Mummy?"_

_Draco._

_Almost stumbling in her rush to get to that voice, Narcissa rounded a group of thick oaks, her long hems gathered in her clenched fists for better agility. "Draco!"_

_And there he was, standing in the middle of their flock of white peacocks she had caught him pestering before, completely unharmed and a perplexed expression on his young face. Narcissa swept him into a fierce hug, ignoring the large birds that let out annoyed sounds at her as if _she_ had done something bad. "Oh, Draco."_

_Holding her son at arm's length, she gazed at him in a scrutinizing manner, ensuring he was indeed alright. "Sweetie, where have you _been_? I was worried sick!"_

_He blinked at her innocently. "You said I shouldn't be naughty to the big birds," he said, his bottom lip sticking out just a little. "So I came back and made them better."_

_Just then, Narcissa noticed the crooked tail feathers on some of the peacocks; the feathers Draco had pulled out earlier. There was a tube of magical glue on the ground, half-empty, and the peacocks were pecking at it._

"_See?" Draco earnestly asked, his eyes big. "I made them whole again. Are you still mad, mummy?"_

"_Oh no, honey," she choked out, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips."I'm not mad anymore."_

_end of flashback_

But it was different this time, Narcissa knew it.

More serious, more deadly.

With a distraught intake of breath, she hurried past the equally agitated elf and through the damaged doorway again into the crisp morning air that did nothing to lessen her worries.

* * *

Draco woke up in the dark with a start.

_Fuck my head hurts._

"Harry, can you get me some Headache Potion?" he whiningly asked, vaguely confused by how his voice echoed – not the way it was supposed to. "Harry?"

Murmuring to himself, he rolled to his side, reaching out to nudge Harry. He encountered nothing but air, not even the cool sheets or the plump pillows. Then his knuckles scraped against rough, cold cement.

Blinking in disorientation, Draco sat up. He realized he was not in their bed, but on the floor that was hard and harsh under his spread palms. "... Harry?"

It was so quiet Draco swore he could have heard a pin drop a mile away.

_What the -_

And then he remembered.

He remembered the warning letter that arrived just a bit too late and he remembered the loud bang when their back door was ripped off of its hinges.

_Fucking hell, how did they get past the wards?_

But squinting in the darkness, he decided it wasn't that important to figure out how the attackers had got into the house – it was more important to figure out how to get out from wherever he was.

Grudgingly, Draco was forced to admit the foul Minister and his followers had the balls required; he hadn't really expected the threatening letters to be nothing but letters. _I guess I was wrong, then._ He sighed and slowly climbed to his feet, feeling his way through the darkness.

After a moment of stumbling around, he knew where he was: a small, empty square-formed room of cement walls and seemingly no windows nor doors.

_The holding cells in the Ministry._

Harry had told him about these rooms where the Aurors kept their prisoners that needed to be questioned. Even though he could feel nothing but the cool walls, he knew there was a magically concealed door somewhere beyond his reach. _"The room is meant to keep suspects on their toes, cut off from the world"_, Harry had explained, and now Draco understood how that worked. There was no light in the cell, no sounds from the surroundings – no contact to anyone, no nothing.

There were even strong, complicated charms on the room that prevented starvation and the feeling of thirst and other bodily functions, which meant that there wouldn't be anyone opening the hidden door to deliver food or water. It would be just himself, alone, in the surreal room for as long as the Minister pleased.

Draco shivered, wrapping his arms around himself as he slid along the wall to sit on the floor.

_Oh what great mess I'm in right now._

* * *

"You're in an awfully good mood," Daniel remarked, rising his eyebrows at the satisfied smirk plastered on Theodore's face. "Care to share?"

Theodore gave a wide grin that reminded Daniel of sharks – lethal and merciless. "Oh I will, Daniel, I will. But first, I want to share it with Harry."

Daniel frowned. He always seemed to frown when Theodore talked about Potter. "Oh?"

If possible, Theodore's grin widened. He gestured towards his cave. "Come along, then, I'm certain you don't want to miss it."

The werewolf shrugged. There was bad taste in his mouth, as if he had swallowed something very tainted, but he followed Theodore nevertheless. As they trekked through the camp, he couldn't help but notice how people shied away from them, swiftly withdrawing into their huts and tents as they passed. For some reason, that made Daniel feel exceptionally heavy.

Potter was sitting in the corner of Theodore's cave, the way he always did – curled into a ball of frail-looking bones and shabby feathers. The Valerius was looking more gaunt and acting more listless as each day passed and Daniel was genuinely afraid that Potter would keel over soon. He didn't know if it was the lack of proper food or the potion Theodore kept feeding him to keep him under control or the fact that his mate or pack was nowhere to be seen that made Potter waste away in front of his eyes, but he suspected it was the dreadful mix of all those factors.

"Hello there, Harry," Theodore crooned with a sweet tone, crouching down to Potter's level. Potter shifted, his head rising a little. "I just got the most wonderful piece of news I've heard for quite some time. Would you like to hear it?"

Of course, Potter didn't reply, but Daniel caught a glimpse of his black eyes under the matt of dirty hair. Theodore smoothed the hair away from Potter's face, grabbing his chin to pull his face closer to his own. Even with his werewolf hearing, Daniel had to strain to hear what Theodore was whispering. "Your lovely bride was taken from his home last night. The Minister himself ordered his kidnapping." He chuckled. "There may be some sense left in that fool, after all. I hear he's going to hurt your little blonde, hurt him _good_. Hurt him until he's dead, Harry."

The hairs in Daniel's neck rose as Theodore laughed, the sound so sinister and inhumane Daniel almost flinched.

_He wasn't always so cruel. He wasn't like that when I joined him._

_It wasn't supposed to be like this._

_flashback – a year ago_

"_They've taken everything from me," Theodore said softly, gazing into his drink as they sat in the quiet corner of the pub. "Everything." _

_Daniel cradled his own mug, lost in his thoughts. "I know what you mean," he said. "I'm a werewolf – there's nothing they _couldn't_ take from me." He sighed. "My job, my inheritance... they even forbid me to see my relatives."_

_There was a crooked smile on Theodore's lips. "So you see why I want a rebellion?"_

"_I do," Daniel confirmed, nodding. "The Ministry is rotten and bad for everyone. Full of bribes, corruption and depravation."_

"_Exactly." Theodore leaned over the table, his intense gaze boring into Daniel. "If we can dismantle the power the Ministry holds... Imagine all the good we could do."_

"_We're just two people, though. The Minister has countless of flunkies to do his bidding. I don't _want_ to sound hopeless, but... " He shrugged. "It's just the way it is."_

_Theodore got a speculative glint in his eyes. "What if I told you we aren't in this alone? That there are more people out there, sick and tired of how the Ministry treats those who don't fit in like the majority of the Wizarding kind?"_

_Daniel frowned. "What do you mean?"_

"_I'm telling you, Daniel, we aren't alone. I've gathered people for some time now and they're ready. Ready to fight for our birth rights." Theodore leaned closer again. "Ready to take back what's rightfully ours."_

_Still, Daniel felt doubtful, though there was a sparkle of interest. "Are you trying to start another war, Theodore? Because I don't think the world is ready for that. We're barely recovering from the latest one -"_

"_Not a war, my dear Daniel," Theodore breathed. "It wouldn't be _war_. It would be an innovation, a step forward into a better future with equality. Wouldn't you want that, to never feel inferiority again?"_

_Daniel hesitated. "That does sound good, I must admit I'm tempted. Are you certain we could actually achieve something?"_

_A fire burned in Theodore's eyes like a raging storm of flames. "We will set things right in this world again. We will not rest until we have our victory, Daniel, mark my words." He held out his hand. "Will you join me as we will have the glory of triumph?"_

_Daniel stared at the offered hand for a moment before grabbing it. "I will."_

_end of flashback _

Potter's face was looking more pinched, his brow furrowed as he stared at the floor. His mouth was working, as if he wanted to have Theodore's neck between his snapping jaws. Still laughing, Theodore left the cave, ignoring Daniel as he stood there in the shadows.

_How did it come to this?_

Daniel watched as Potter twitched, his breath coming in short gasps. Apparently, he had realized his mate was in danger even in his subdued form and it was tearing him inside out because there was nothing he could do.

A single tear, perhaps of frustration or anger, rolled down Potter's pale cheek, falling into the ground without a sound.

_How did it come to this?_

* * *

It could have been minutes, hours, even days – Draco had no way of knowing how much time had passed.

He had got up a few times to stretch his legs, walking around the small cell and scratching his fingertips bloody in his attempt to find the concealed door. Thwarting fear and desperation hung in the air, making it impossible for Draco to relax. Sleep was a luxury he couldn't even dream of. Literally.

In the silence and darkness, he sat and waited.

And in the silence and darkness, all kinds of thoughts slithered their way into his mind. He wondered what was going on outside the holding cells. What had happened to Harry? Was he still alive, still Nott's puppet? A crushing power gripped his heart every time he dared to think about Harry.

_I would feel it if he's dead_, he tried to reason with himself. _I would feel the void in the world left by Harry's death._

Draco closed his eyes._ Would Harry feel it if _I_ died? _He envisioned Harry's eyes, the black fading away to give room for the green. _Would he be able to break away from under Nott's control then?_

_Or would it just destroy him beyond repair?_

He sighed and rubbed his tired eyes that felt like he had dust from smashed glass in them. Merlin, he so wanted to lay down onto the floor, doze off and wake up in his own bedroom with Harry by his side, just the way it was supposed to be.

_We were supposed to be happy after the war._

_We were supposed to have a life full of care-free laughter and enjoyment._

_We were supposed to travel, to see exotic places and experience everything that the world has to offer._

He leaned his head back against the cold wall.

_We were supposed to be happy._

_Why didn't they let us?_

"Oh I know why," Draco sullenly muttered to himself. "'_Life isn't fair_', just like mother always said. Life -"

_Bang_.

The door Draco had so feverishly looked for suddenly opened and painfully bright light flooded the cell. Startled, Draco scrambled to his feet hastily, attempting to shield his eyes from the harsh invasion of light. He could barely make out the outlines of the men who entered his room.

"Who are you?" he demanded with a brave front, his voice but a pitiful croak as he stood there, his back braced against the wall. "Why am I here?"

"Shut it, Malfoy," someone snapped and the door was slammed shut. The light, however, didn't vanish. "We're asking the questions, not _you_."

Draco squinted, his eyes slowly becoming used to the new level of illumination. Three men he didn't recognize, dressed in standard Auror robes, scrutinized him with their eyes not at all kindly. Somehow, the room felt larger all the sudden. "Who are you?" Draco asked again boldly, staring back at them.

There was a crack in the air and a wooden chair appeared into the middle of the holding cell. "None of your business," one of them snarled and reached out, yanking Draco down to sit on the chair. Instantly, thick ropes came out of nowhere and bound him so tightly he could feel that the circulation of blood stopped at once.

Draco swore, grimacing as the ropes cut into his skin. "You fucking cretins -"

A rough slap across his face made him gasp, both from the pain and amazement.

"I told you already, Malfoy," the man who had hit him growled – he reminded Draco a little of old Mad-Eye - ", _shut_ it."

"Do you have the vial?" a man with pale yellow eyes asked, his gaze sharp and ruthless.

The third man, burly and strong-looking, stuck his large hand into his pocket and withdrew a tiny vial of crystal clear liquid. Even before they forced some drops down his throat, Draco, of course, knew it was Veritaserum.

His head began to feel woolly, like it had been stuffed with balls of cotton, and Draco pulled a face at the horrible feeling of vulnerability. _Fucking hell I hate this shit. _He could resist the pull of the truth potion to some degree, but it still felt awful.

"Where is Harry Potter?" the first man shot right away, his face so close to Draco's the blonde could see every detail on his scarred face. He tried to focus on the cold eyes. "_Where_?"

"I don't know," Draco murmured with honesty and then cried out when the man fiercely grabbed his hair and pulled his head back as far as his neck would bend without breaking. "I don't know!"

The grip in his hair tightened. "Where's Theodore Nott?"

"I don't know," Draco repeated with a strangled hiss, his eyes watering from the pain in his scalp.

"He's lying!" the yellow-eyed man spat, a grimace of distaste on his face. "He must have learned to reject the potion."

Draco's head was released, but his relief was short-lived.

"Then we have to extract the truth by old-fashioned ways."

The first blow, brutal and vicious, was almost enough to send him crashing against the wall and he closed his eyes, pretending he wasn't there.

_Why didn't they let us be happy?_

Blood spattered on the wall in wild patterns, slowly dripping to the floor in red rivulets.

_Why?_


	16. Fly Away

Summary: Having Harry Potter locked up as a dangerous beast, the Ministry shows no signs of gratitude for the Defeater of Voldemort. Until there is a new threat to be considered...

_**Warnings**_: Violence (perhaps even some gore), Cursing, Established Relationship (HPDM), Character Death

_**Disclaimer**_: Not mine but Rowling's.

**A/N: **Thank you Cam! Now, readers, this is the second last chapter of Give Me Wings To Fly With that will be followed by an epilogue soon to clear things up a bit.

* * *

**Chapter XVI – Fly Away**

"Have some more tea, Narcissa."

"I don't want anymore bloody _tea_." She fixed a suspicious eye on Severus. "Did you lace my tea with Calming Draught?"

Severus raised a questioning eyebrow. "Should I have had to?"

"I have a _reason_ to be distraught, Severus," she said stiffly, ignoring the offered pot of steaming tea, her lips tightly pursed. "My son has been kidnapped, for Merlin's sake, and all you can do is ask me if I want tea?"

"What would you have me do?" Severus' face was carefully blank as he lowered the pot back onto the table. "Barge into the Ministry and demand for Draco's release?"

Narcissa threw her hands up in the air, exasperated. "Yes!"

Severus frowned. "Don't be a fool, Narcissa."

"There's nothing we can do at the moment," Remus put in mildly from his armchair. He was looking more shabby than usual and his hair was almost completely grey. "The Minister would have us thrown into holding as well, and what good would come from that?"

"You could try and reason with the Minister," Narcissa said with a stubborn edge, narrowing her eyes. "You could make him see that Draco is no threat -"

"The Minister is beyond seeing sense," Severus interrupted gently. "He is extremely paranoid and I'm certain that on the verge of a nervous breakdown, as well." He hesitated, then added, "And even though Draco is known for his great dislike regarding the Ministry, it may not be because of him being a threat towards the Minister."

Narcissa's eyes flashed. "It's because of Potter, I know. They think Draco knows where that boy is." Her face twisted with barely concealed emotions. "I always knew Potter wasn't good for Draco. If it weren't for him -"

"- then Draco's life would have shattered a long time ago." Severus looked at her, his gaze dark and grim in its intensity. "You weren't there, Narcissa, when Draco and Potter started their relationship. You weren't there to see that _light_ that returned to Draco's eyes." He gave a sneer. "No, Narcissa, you weren't there. You were always absent. You didn't see the happiness Draco and Potter had, the utmost trust and love they shared."

Narcissa's upper lip curled and she reminded the two men of an agitated cat. "What would _you_ know about love?" she spat.

Severus regarded her unflinchingly. He knew it was the distress and worry that made her act like a completely different person from her usual, collected self. "I know enough to recognize it when it's right in front of my eyes," he said coolly. "Draco was the half of a person before he met, really met, Potter. He was unhappy, Narcissa, afraid of the future and of his role in it. I was there, I saw it." He raised a hand to silence Narcissa when she opened her mouth to speak. "Yes, you saw him, too, but only during summers. And did you not notice how happy he was when he came home from school after his sixth year?"

"I -" Narcissa blinked rapidly.

"I may not be one of Potter's biggest and devoted fans, but I can freely admit that it was his doing. It was Potter who made Draco see that he didn't _have_ to become a Death Eater. It was Potter who made Draco see he could make his own choices, to be his own person." His voice went down a notch. "Would you have liked to see him following Lucius' dark footsteps, ending up in Azkaban or dead before his time, Narcissa? Because _that_ would have been Draco's hapless future if it weren't for Potter."

Narcissa looked pale and haggard and her hand was pressed against her chest.

"I didn't known Draco as well as you two do," Remus said, cradling his mug of warm tea between his hands, "but I know Harry like he's my own flesh and blood. And when I saw them together, Harry and Draco... " He smiled, almost wistfully. "I knew I was looking at perfection. They're like two halves of an object, nonfunctional if not whole." His eyes hardened, just a little. "I won't sit here and let you slander Harry as if everything is _his_ fault, just because you want to find someone to blame. Harry was good for Draco and Draco was good for Harry."

Now Narcissa looked definitely anguished, her face pinched. "I... " she swallowed and her subdued gaze lowered. "You spoke in past tense," she finally whispered in a broken voice. "As if there's no hope left, for either of them."

Remus glanced at Severus, appearing pained. "I apologize," he murmured. His hands were so tightly clenched around the mug the porcelain started to crack. "I do have hope." Severus grabbed his wrist, gently but firmly coaxing him to relax his grip before the mug would end up in shards. "I do. It's the only thing that makes me wake up in the morning. The hope that I'll see Harry again, happy and smiling in Draco's arms."

There was a painful silence following Remus' statement. Narcissa's eyes were moist and glossy and there were red dots of embarrassment on her cheeks, but she didn't cry. Severus sat in front of the roaring fire, his face clear of any emotion, save for his eyes that burned like the fire he was staring at. Remus looked both lost and defiant, his hands resting on the table beside his mug that had a long crack along its side.

A loud swoosh and the tingle of wards startled them from their musings and they brandished their wands without seconds thoughts, leaping up. Kingsley's head floated in the fire and he looked tired, not putting any attention to the wands trained on him. "May I come through?" he merely asked.

Remus, as the owner of the wards inside the Grimmauld Place, nodded and lowered both the wards and his wand. Severus followed his example swiftly and after a moment of distrustful staring, Narcissa pocketed her wand as well.

In seconds, Kingsley stood in the sitting room, jadedly brushing ash from his cloak. "I have some bad news, I'm afraid."

Narcissa gasped, her eyes large as she grabbed Severus' arm so fiercely the Potions Master winced. "Is it... is it Draco?"

Kingsley spared the time to give her a small, reassuring smile. "No news about Draco, Mrs. Malfoy. As far as I know, he's still alive."

"Then what?" Severus prompted with an air of impatience, his dark eyes searching.

Kingsley shrugged resignedly. "I got fired from my position as the Head Auror."

"_What_?" Remus breathed, looking flabbergasted. "For Merlin's sake, why?"

Severus was rubbing at the bridge of his nose. "I knew this day would come soon," he muttered with a dour twist on his lips. "You are a close friend of Potter's and you openly defy the Ministry; it is a miracle the Minister didn't get rid of you earlier."

"Tell me about it." Kingsley sighed and looked around. "Can I sit down?"

"Of course, of course." Remus sprang into action, directing Kingsley to be seated on the couch. "Do you want some tea?"

Kingsley inclined his head. "If you don't mind, then yes, please."

Remus conjured a cup, a bright yellow one he knew Kingsley always preferred for some odd reason, and poured some freshly made tea into it. Kingsley accepted the cup with a grateful smile.

"Did they tell you _why_ they fired you?" Severus asked, sitting down again with his gaze steadfastly on Kingsley.

"Not in so many words," Kingsley said after taking a generous sip of tea. "But I must assume the Minister started to feel threatened when I was so determined to find Draco. He didn't really have a solid reason to fire me before, after all." He shrugged. "I received a memo this morning, telling me I had two hours to pack my things and leave."

"That's awful," Narcissa murmured, frowning. "Can they actually do that?"

"The Ministry is pretty much the Minister's playground by now. There's not much he _can't_ do."

"Well then." Narcissa sat next to Severus, a prim look on her face. "I am even more glad I returned, since I can now vote for you in the next Minister elections."

Kingsley smiled fleetingly. "That's very kind of you, Mrs. Malfoy. I'm just sorry I wasn't able to locate your son."

The light dimmed a little in her eyes, but she smiled back bravely. "I am certain you did your best." Her gaze flickered to Remus and Severus. "As did all of you. And not everything is already lost – there's still hope, as I was just reminded." She shot another smile at Remus, who acknowledged the apology with a nod and a smile.

"Do you know who your successor will be?" Severus asked.

Kingsley's face darkened and his eyes narrowed to slits. "I haven't got the foggiest, but it must be someone the Minister approves."

"In other words, his very own loyal puppet," Remus said softly. "We better warn the Weasleys in the Ministry to be very cautious from now on. It's become an extremely unsafe place."

* * *

The world had a red tint on it. A lovely, scarlet coat that made everything look hazy and crimson. Draco didn't know when the painters had decided the paint the world red. It looked silly.

Or maybe it was his eyes.

_Probably the eyes. _

He closed his eyes with a whimper-like groan, winching when even that made the ache all over him worsen. It felt as if there were thousands of little insects crawling on his skin, slowly eating him up with their tiny, sharp teeth until there was nothing left.

"Where are Potter and Nott? This is your last chance, Malfoy. "

Draco peeked through his lashes weakly. Funny how they had been repeating that last line for the past few hours. "Go to... hell," he chocked out with difficulties, blood clogging up his throat. He tried to swallow around the lump of blood. "Even if I... knew s-something, I wouldn't... tell _you_."

His interrogators let out a united sigh of disappointment. Draco could barely restrain the hysterical laughter that bubbled in him like that foamy Muggle-drink Harry always preferred.

_They must have trained together, to sigh like that at the same time._

"We'll be back, Malfoy, and you better give us some answers then."

The door shut close with a resolute _bang_ and Draco didn't have to look to see that the wall was seamless once more.

_I really, really hate this shit._

Draco stifled a groan of pure agony as he rolled to his side, nearly blackening out in the process. There was something wet underneath him, wet and sticky, that made him so cold his teeth began to chatter. Spikes of hot pain shot along his back, as if his spine had been ripped out and replaced with melted metal that was slowly slithering its way into his bones, heating up his blood.

_I wouldn't put it past them to do that, actually._

Trying not to think about his melting bones and steaming blood, Draco rested on his back. He couldn't feel his legs anymore and he idly wondered if they had been chopped off.

_Well, for what would I need my legs, anyway? Harry would invent a magical wheel chair for me._

His eyes drifted close again and the pain numbed in the darkness that consumed him.

"_Look at the stars, Draco. Aren't they beautiful?"_

_Draco snorted. "Turning all mushy and girly on me, are you, Potter?"_

"_Prat." Harry gave Draco a playful shove on the shoulder._

"_Git," Draco replied fondly. He turned his eyes upwards to peek at the sky that glimpsed through the windows in the Astronomy Tower. They _were_ beautiful, the stars, and Draco's breath caught at the sight of the vast field of twinkling lights winking at him. "I once heard that dead wizards and witches become starts."_

_Harry glanced at him. "Yeah?"_

"_I think it was my mother who told me that, when I asked what had happened to my Great Uncle Augustinian. She said that he was up in the sky now, to watch over us all."_

_He felt Harry entwine their fingers. "I like the sound of that." Harry's gaze was wistful as he watched the luminous stars spreading out above them. "Then my parents and Sirius are still here, guiding my way."_

_Draco smiled softly as Harry leaned his head against his shoulder. "They're never truly gone, Harry, as long as they're in your heart."_

_Harry's head turned as he looked at him, pressing a gentle kiss on his lips. _

_

* * *

_

"_I think it's perfect."_

_Draco felt Harry's hand slipping into his as they stood there, staring at the red house with white window frames. The paint was a little crusted and the grass overgrown, but Draco fell in love immediately. _

"_It needs just a little work done," Harry murmured, shielding his eyes from the burn of the sun. "Oh look at that garden, there's nothing we can't have there... "_

_They walked around the grounds for a long time, taking in all the details and planning and not stopping until they reached the shore of the lake behind the house. The water was alive with colours from the oncoming sunset and glimmered softly in a welcoming manner. _

_Draco stepped up behind Harry and wrapped his hands around him. They surveyed the magnificent scene in front of them together in silence for a moment. "This is all ours," Draco whispered into Harry's ear. "Imagine, we own a _house_."_

"_And such a perfect house it is," Harry agreed with a soft murmur, melting into the embrace. "I never thought I'd buy a house with someone to share it with."_

_Draco nuzzled Harry's neck. "I'm happy I'm the one who's buying it with you."_

"_Yeah, me too. I can't wait till we can move in."_

"_Think we should christen every room?" Draco asked with a wicked grin. _

_Harry laughed, the sound soft and joyful. "So eager to get into my pants again, aren't you?"_

"_Into your pants, into your heart. Everywhere." Draco held Harry close, letting his body mould into him._

_Harry wriggled and turned in his arms, facing Draco. His green eyes shone with a brilliant light as the last rays of sun caught them. "You've already managed both," he whispered._

_Draco smiled. "I know. And that's what makes me the happiest man on Earth."_

_

* * *

_

"_Can two wizards really have normal weddings?"_

_They were lying on the bed in a heap of tangled limbs and wrung sheets. Draco was idly playing with a strand of Harry's hair. "Of course, just as spectacular as a witch and a wizard."_

_Harry was quiet for a moment. "Are we going to get married some day?"_

"_That's why I gave you that promise bracelet, Harry." Draco caressed Harry's neck lightly. "You're the one with whom I want to spend the rest of my life. Of course we're getting married one day." He gave a wry grin. "And might I notify you that _all_ Malfoy weddings are very spectacular indeed."_

_Harry chuckled. "Can we have a magical water fountain that has champagne instead of water?" he asked hopefully and Draco laughed._

"_We can have a golden fountain with the finest of champagne, I can assure you."_

"_Can we have an archway with lilies and narcissi?"_

"_Of course we can."_

"_Can we have a huge chocolate cake with strawberries?"_

"_Darling," Draco said. "We can have _everything_ you want."_

_And the smile that spread on Harry's face was enough for Draco to know that he would spend all his money to the last Knut if that meant Harry was happy. _

Sprawled on the cold, unyielding floor of his cell, Draco smiled in his state of deep unconsciousness. Fresh blood trickled down his chin, forming a crimson puddle around the pale halo of his hair.

* * *

Ron was morosely staring into his glass of Firewhiskey. He was slumped in a corner booth that was the most remote one from the main bar, almost hidden away, and the noise of the few patrons nearby couldn't reach him. No-one approached him, either – the waitress, a young woman with purple hair and a perpetual stick of bubblegum in her mouth, had taken one look at his dark face and wisely retreated back behind the counter.

His Auror robes on him were wrinkled and dirty but he couldn't bring himself to care.

_They're going to fire me soon, anyway._

He sighed, harbouring his drink as if his life depended on it. Kingsley had informed him that he had been sacked and that Ron and his brothers should be even more careful from now on, just before the Minister's security wizards had escorted the former Head Auror out. The sight of Kingsley leaving, his back straight as an arrow and his head held proud, made Ron want to bash his fist at something – anything. A wall, the Minister, Ron didn't mind.

He felt so helpless, so vulnerable. It was eating him up like some bitter liquid inside him, slowly burning and stinging, the fact that how he was an Auror, for Merlin's sake, and still couldn't do anything. He couldn't fight for Kingsley, he couldn't find Harry, wherever he was, he couldn't even find Draco in the Ministry!

And he couldn't even save his own brother from being corrupted.

The hollow feeling of being utterly _useless_ made Ron swing his hand wildly, growling, and the glass flew from the table. It smashed against the wall with the whiskey splattering all over, shards of glass covering the end of the table like a coat of sparkling diamonds.

_Fuck_.

Ron groaned, his head falling to rest on his hands.

_What am I going to do? What the hell am I going to do?_

He cursed softly.

_I guess the first thing is to go home or Hermione will send out a search party._

"It looks like you're going to need another drink," said a voice then, deep and low, and Ron's head snapped up, his wand in his hand before he could even set his gaze on the man in front of him.

And when he did, his eyes widened in recognition. "You!" he spat out in sudden fury, standing up so fast the table in the booth rattled. His wand arm didn't shake one bit as he took aim, a disarming spell at the tip of his tongue, ready to be shouted out in an instant.

But the man with dirty blonde hair and golden eyes, like Remus', didn't draw his wand like Ron had expected. Oh no, quite on the contrary, in fact: the werewolf held his hands up as if in surrender and backed up a step. "I didn't come here to fight," he said gruffly, staring Ron in the eye with an earnest air around him.

"Oh yeah?" Ron snarled, threateningly jabbing his wand at the man. "You're with _Nott_, you scum bag."

The man looked at him, something akin to sadness suddenly in his eyes for a brief moment. "I am, aren't I?" he quietly murmured, letting out a defeated-sounding sigh. "I guess I am, then."

Ron frowned in confusion and his wand lowered an inch. He was excellent at observation, he got tops mark in Auror training, after all, and the werewolf all but _smelled_ of sincerity. Still, Ron narrowed his eyes distrustfully. "What are you doing here?" he demanded, with a quick look around to make sure they weren't drawing any attention to themselves. "I should turn you in. You're a wanted criminal."

For a second, the man was silent. Then he glanced at the empty booth. "I just want to talk to you," he finally said.

"Talk?" Ron snorted, then waved his wand commandingly. "Then sit your arse down and _talk_, before I lock you up for good."

Slowly and hesitatingly, the man sat down. His yellowed eyes were on Ron, wondering. "You _are_ Ron Weasley, right? Potter's friend?"

Ron stared at him. "Harry? What do you know of Harry?" He leaned forward and grabbed the man's shabby robes, pushing him viciously against the chair until the worn leather creaked. "_Where is he?_" he hissed.

Again, the werewolf did nothing to defend himself. "I – I can't say," he choked out. "It's the spells – they forbid to say where he is."

Breathing hard through his nose, Ron forced himself to relax his grip and pull away. "Have you seen him?"

Something flickered in those eyes. "I have. And that's why I need to talk to you."

"Then _talk _already, for fuck's sake!" Ron nearly shouted and angry sparks burst out from his wand.

"My name is Daniel," the man said, licking his lips. Ron couldn't tell whether it was a nervous habit or not. "I met with Theodore a couple of years back." He looked down. "He said everything I wanted to hear. He spoke of a glorious future without wars and pain."

"Of course he did," Ron scoffed, huffing out an irate puff of air. He was tapping his wand impatiently against the table. "A slimy, insane _bastard_, he is."

The man, Daniel, smiled a ghost of a smile. "I didn't think like that in the beginning. I thought he was a great man, worthy of my attention. That he was going to set things right."

Ron eyed him, frowning. The werewolf was acting in a very peculiar way. "Go on."

"I agreed to help him to get rid of the Ministry and its corrupted ways." Daniel sighed. He looked up at Ron, a sudden desperate light in his eyes. "You have to understand that I'm not like him. I don't agree with him how he treats... how he treats Potter." The eyes practically burned. "_I'm not like him."_

For a short moment, Ron was a little taken back by the vehemence behind the man's voice. "Tell me," he ordered in a grim tone, not all knowing if he really wanted to know. "Tell me what you know."

"Not much," Daniel admitted, shifting in his seat. "Theodore treats Potter badly, I can tell you that."

And as he proceeded to speak, Ron found himself gripping his wand so tightly he nearly set the table on fire.

* * *

"Weasley, what in the name of Merlin -"

Ron panted, heavily leaning against the door frame. "No time to explain, Snape. Is Remus in?"

"Ron?" came Remus' quizzy voice as he appeared behind Snape. "What is it?" His gaze flickered past the redhead and he sniffed the air. "And who's your friend?"

"Please, there's no time to explain – Nott's using Harry again in an attack soon and I can't go the Aurors anymore because Kingsley's gone."

"Ronald?"

Ron blinked. "Kingsley? What -"

"Young Mr. Weasley, has no-one told you it's rude to stare?"

Staring at the woman with icy blonde hair peeking behind Kingsley's broad shoulder, Ron nearly stomped his foot in frustration. "Oh for fuck's sake, what is this, a social gathering?" When Mrs. Malfoy opened her mouth to reply, Ron shook his head. "Never mind, never mind. Look, Remus, there's an attack, very soon, and Harry's forced to be involved again."

"Where did you get this information?" Snape asked suspiciously with a dark frown before Remus could say anything, looking at Ron through narrowed eyes.

Ron shot a quick glance at Daniel who was standing apart from him with aloof dignity. "It doesn't matter -" He halted. "I'll explain later, okay? But could we please go now? I have to inform Hermione, too, Harry's going to need his pack. He – I figured it could trigger his memories enough to break from under Nott's control."

A great hassle broke out as everyone ran around for a few moments, retrieving cloaks and other items while Ron stood at the door, anxiously shifting his weight from one foot to another. He glanced at Daniel again. "You sure about this, right?"

The werewolf answered his look levelly. "You used Veritaserum. I couldn't have lied even if I wanted to." He sighed, rubbing his temples. "There _is_ an attack and I fear that Theodore is planning to use Potter for far more worse than just making buildings go _boom_."

"And Harry can't take that," Ron finished softly.

Daniel looked away. "He's near the breaking point, I'm afraid. Soon, there's no chance of return."

They fell silent in strange understanding, waiting for the others. _In times of desperation, _Ron thought_, you do what you have to do. _He pursed his lips. _Even if that means getting help from the enemy._

* * *

There was fire and there was pain and there was blood. In the darkness, there was nothing soothing, nothing good.

Harry listened to the voice that told him what to do and he obeyed the orders.

Destruction, it was pure destruction.

_Pulverise. Burn. Demolish._

Then there was something strange, something that shook him from the inside out like an inner earth quake – Harry froze and cocked his head. He heard the crackle of fire and the pained screams all around him, but it felt as if there was something else to be heard. Something very important that tugged at his very heart and cleared away the dark clouds in his mind.

"Harry, I said that destroy that house. Didn't you hear me?"

Harry's head whipped around and he stared at Nott, distraught. Suddenly, it felt as if something invisible had slapped him across his face and he stumbled back a few steps, gasping for breath. Images flashed in his eyes, distorted and foggy visions.

"Harry, what _are_ you doing?" came the commanding voice, bewildered. "Get here and start listening to me."

But Harry couldn't move.

_Blood, there was so much blood and just a few strands of pale hair visible. Blood and pain._

Harry gasped and the air felt poisonous in his lungs.

_Draco._

_Draco was dying. _

"Harry, I'm going to say this only once -"

"No," Harry croaked, trembling all over.

Now it was Nott who froze. "What did you say?"

Harry grind his teeth together. "_No_," he harshly repeated, squeezed his eyes close and physically wrenched himself away from any magical bindings and vanished with a sharp _crack, _leaving Nott to be surrounded by red-cloaked Aurors that had appeared out of nowhere.

_Draco._

He never saw the small group standing nearby, staring, and he never saw how they hastened to Disapparate after him.

* * *

"Hurry, hurry!"

"Are you sure he's coming here? Why would he -"

"Didn't you see? Something had greatly upset him and he was mouthing Draco's name -"

A massive explosion rattled the floor underneath their feet and they stopped for a second, getting their balance back.

"I think that clears away any doubt. Let's move!"

The sight that met them on the lower levels was something that none of them would ever forget. The whole level was in shambles, huge junks of stone sitting in the gravel and pieces of broken furniture were littered everywhere – a half of a desk was smashed against a rough boulder, a stack of scorched papers was sprawled over a fallen door that had shot from the cracked door frames like a bullet.

And in the middle of all that devastation, was Harry on his knees on the floor, clutching something bloody and blond to his chest.

A horrible wail filled the air, full of immense pain and anguish.

_No. No no no._

Frantic, Harry searched for any signs of life – a flutter of eyes, a tiny intake of air, anything.

But there was none. Draco was lifeless in his arms, his head lolling and his limbs heavy and unmoving, like a doll. Blood coated him from head to toe, sticky blood that had begun to dry already, crimson blood that hid away his blond hair. Draco's face was drawn and gaunt, his half-open eyes empty.

_Dead_.

Harry threw his head back and let out a howl.

_Dead_.

The body he was clutching against his chest was cold to touch. Harry wailed, burying his face into the crook of Draco's neck. He closed his eyes and pressed a hand on Draco's forehead, then lifted his head to stare at Draco's haggard face.

_You deserve to live._

_Live, not die._

_Never die._

Wrapping his arms around Draco, Harry kissed him for the last time.

_I love you more than anything._

_More than life itself._

* * *

With a gasp that felt like it ripped at his lungs, Draco jolted and his eyes flew open. Something hovered in his vision, a dark blotch that held him, warmed him.

"Harry?" he brokenly whispered and the hazy image sharpened. "_Harry_."

Harry didn't say anything, but he smiled. The smile stayed on his lips as he went suddenly limp, collapsing in slow motion, and Draco rolled to his stomach as the arms around him relaxed. Feeling disoriented at what was happening, Draco scrambled to his knees and shook Harry, who stayed where he was. Motionless, completely still. "Harry!"

_No. It couldn't be._

_It just couldn't._

He felt a hesitant touch on his shoulder and whirled around. Hermione was standing right behind him.

"Fix him," Draco whispered. Harry's cheek was cold under his trembling fingers. Cold and hard, like marble. And somewhere inside him, Draco knew.

But he couldn't accept it.

"Draco..."

"Fix him," he choked out, louder and more firm this time. Something painful was clawing its way into his chest, ripping, shredding, tearing. "Please just fix him."

"I can't, Draco." Hermione's hands dug into his robes as she tried to tug him away, her eyes swimming with tears she was afraid of shedding. "I can't fix him."

And the eyes, so bright green, continued to hopefully stare up at the broken ceiling, forever frozen in place.

* * *

_Beings of Magic: Volume III, Dark and Beautiful (ch. 20, p. 701) _

_Among the species' numerous talents and magical abilities, perhaps the most miraculous and altruistic one is called the 'Kiss of Life'. Most commonly, this happens between the Valerius and its mate, and it can only be used once in the Valerius' life. The Kiss of Life can be used to heal someone from mortal injuries or, in some very rare cases, even bring back from the dead._

_On the contrary to its major impact on the receiver and the Valerius, the Kiss of Life is a very simple and quick procedure. The Valerius transfers their own life force into the dying person through a kiss on the lips, which effectively heals any damage done to a person. Unfortunately, however, as the will to have their mate survive prevails the instinct of self preservation, the Kiss of Life usually and tragically results in the Valerius' death._

_- fin_


	17. Epilogue

**A/N**: I'd like to take a moment to thank you all for following this story to the end. Every review submitted made me smile.

* * *

The house was quiet.

It had been relatively quiet for a quite long time now, actually.

There was something amiss – a spark. Something that made the house really _alive_ and flourishing.

Draco was aware of it with painful clarity. The house was still beautiful as ever, clean and well taken care of, and the grounds were verdant with dainty butterflies fluttering above the first flowers of the spring. But still.

The soul of the house was withered, unnourished.

Wanting to get away from the silence, Draco wandered outside to stand by the massive oak that had its sturdy branches spread widely, reaching towards the sky. A hesitant ray of sunshine broke through the rustling leaves, making the dark wood of the trunk almost glow. Draco brushed his hand against the rough surface.

_Harry's favourite tree._

The oak had been but a mere sapling in the beginning, a tiny and a pitiful thing, but Harry's magic had made it grow and grow until it was the large tree with boughs so thick Draco couldn't circle them with his arms it was today.

It hadn't, of course, grown for almost a year now.

Draco hadn't caught any visible signs of the tree dying or suffering, but he had to admit the oak was looking a little rumpled these days. Rumpled and alone.

A subdued squeak stole his attention and he looked up, quickly spotting the small dragon perched on one the branch.

_Well, not completely alone._

"Hey, Claw," he said softly. "Here again, I see."

The dragon had taken a habit of spending time near the tree, sitting on the branches and clinging to the trunk as if it had been glued to stick there. It probably felt the presence of Harry's magic that still lingered on and was drawn to it like a bee that missed honey.

Claw chittered quietly, gazing down on him as it nestled on the branch, completely surrounded by leaves. "You sure you won't come down?" Draco asked, his head tilted back to see the dragon. "You could sleep in the house if you want."

There was a gentle twitter again and Claw shook its tiny head, lowering its muzzle to rest it on the wood. Draco sighed. "Whatever you want."

He leaned his head against the trunk, feeling the cool glow of the bronze plaque under his cheek. Without looking at it, he knew what it had engraved on it.

_Harry. The man who saved the world. A lot. *_

"Draco?"

Draco cracked his eyes open to get a glimpse of Blaise approaching him. "Hey. I just wanted some fresh air."

"Yeah, I thought so." Blaise stopped in front of him and cocked his head, his dark eyes curious and solemn. "How are you feeling?"

Draco shrugged, pushing away from the tree. The magic tingled on his skin as if it was saying good-bye and Draco felt a shudder going down his spine. "I'm good. Is the lunch Twinkly was preparing ready?"

Blaise watched him for a moment, his hands stuffed in his pockets. Then he gestured back towards the house. "Yes, the lunch is ready. Let's get inside before Twinkly throws a hissy fit and shrieks that we don't appreciate her cooking."

Allowing himself to give a short chuckle, Draco smiled wryly. "I was starting to get a bit hungry."

As they walked across the yard side by side, Blaise bumping his shoulder against Draco's in a friendly way, Draco was once again glad that Blaise had moved in with him. After Harry's death, the house had been so empty Draco had even considered selling the house – but when Blaise had suggested he take one of the guest rooms, Draco had readily agreed.

He really needed the company Blaise provided, the solacing comfort and the upbeat atmosphere he brought along. Besides, selling the house would have been devastating in the long run; all the memories Draco had, all the sweet and heartbreaking memories of the house, they would have been lost forever.

It still hurt to walk the echoing corridors and to sleep in the large bed, all alone. It still hurt to watch the blooming flowers in the small pots on the veranda, knowing Harry would never be there anymore to tenderly take care of them. But it would hurt more if he abandoned the house – it would be dishonouring Harry's memory.

_He loved this place. He really did._ Draco ran his hand along the smooth wooden railing on the veranda._ The first home he could really call his own. _

"So what's on the menu today?" he asked, taking a cautious sniff as they stepped inside the house. "Beef, I presume?"

"_Boeuf Bourguignonne_", Blaise confirmed, then lowered his voice a notch. "She's been experimenting again."

It was funny, how Twinkly seemed to try to overdo her already delicious dishes nowadays, making _steak au poivres _and_ carbonnade flamandes_ left and right. Draco guessed it was simply her way of compensating with the loss of one of her masters.

_We all have our own way of coping with it._

* * *

"Ron, have you seen my folder somewhere?"

"Which one? The red or the green one? Or the grey with black stripes? _Or_ perhaps you mean the blue folder that has two smaller folders _inside_ it?"

Slowly, Hermione turned from where she was rummaging through her larger than average bag, her eyes narrowed. "Are you being a smart-arse, Ron?"

Ron raised his hands in an universal sign of "who, me?". "Of course not. Just asking, that's all."

She snorted, her hands on her hips as she stared down on him. "If you have something to say, Ron, please say it and stop beating around the bush."

"Hermione... " Ron took a gulp of air, his face set in hesitant determination. "Hermione, _darling_. Don't you think... don't you think you're working a bit too much these days?"

She frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I just... " He sighed. "You're spending the weekends at the orphanage and during the week, you barely have the time to eat with all the work you're doing in the Ministry. Ever since Nott was put to Azkaban, you've been practically sleeping at the Ministry. Yes, I know Kingsley expects a lot from you since since he put you in charge of modernizing the wizarding laws, but you can't change all the bad laws in one go. You don't have to rush, Hermione. Kingsley understands that these things take time, he wouldn't be a Minister if he didn't."

Hermione's lips were pursed in distaste. "I don't -"

"Though I think I know why you spend hardly any time home now." Ron watched her with a shrewd look in his eyes. "You keep burying yourself to work because then you don't have any time to think about Harry, don't you?"

At the mention of Harry's name, she gave a twitch and lowered her gaze. She was silent for a moment, but Ron waited patiently. "I just miss him so much," she finally whispered, her voice trembling. "Every time I think of him, it hurts, Ron, it really does. It hurts because I'll never see him walk through that door with a smile on his lips, asking how my day was -" She choked on her words and Ron reached out and gently wrapped his arm over her shivering shoulders.

"I know it hurts," he murmured, enveloping her in a hug. "It hurts me, too. Harry was my best friend and he was like a brother to me." _And a _better_ brother than someone_, he thought darkly. _I hope Bill really enjoys his house arrest and the fact that he's forbidden to use magic for ten years_. "But you have to move on, Hermione. It's been almost a year."

"How do you do it?" she whispered thickly. "How do you move on?"

There was pure desperation in her voice and Ron squeezed her tighter, resting his chin on her wild bundle of hair. "You accept that he's dead," he said quietly. "You accept that you're never going to see him again, but that he's not completely gone. He'll never be gone, for as long as we remember him and value the time we had with him. He'll always be with you, with me, with everyone lucky enough for having known him – the memory of him is never gone."

She let out a sob, clinging to him so hard Ron felt his robes tearing. "You can't force him out of your thoughts, Hermione," he spoke gently, rubbing soothing circles on her back. "Do you think Harry would have wanted that? He would have wanted that we remember him and learn to let go, he wouldn't want _this._ He'd want you to live, Hermione."

Hermione heaved a great breath. "Why couldn't he stay, Ron?" she asked with a broken voice. "Why couldn't he stay?"

Ron closed his eyes. "It was his time, Hermione. He never was ours to keep forever."

* * *

"It's very good. The artist has some talent."

Remus glanced at Severus, smiling slightly, before looking back at the painting of Harry that hung on the wall, right next to his parents. "Yes, I think so, too."

Harry gave them a small wave from the canvas, his eyes bright and his black hair so tangled Remus doubted not even Draco could set it straight. They had opted for a magical painting where people could move, but not speak. Remus didn't think he could live with hearing Harry's voice but knowing it wasn't really him.

"Should we begin our session now?"

Remus nodded. "Yes. I have to wake up early tomorrow morning, Daniel will be assisting me in interviewing the last of the misfits. Soon we'll know the best way to reintroduce them to the society."

"Or the other way around," Severus said softly as they walked to the sitting room. "You can show them the new society. The society that _has_ a place for them."

Remus hummed his agreement, sinking down on one of the armchairs. He gazed at the photograph of a young Harry on the table for a few seconds. "Harry was a very brave man. He faced death several times, never wavering. He never complained, never wanted to give up."

"He was as stubborn as Gryffindors go," Severus acknowledged and leaned back on the couch. "Foolhardy and reckless, yes, but with a pure heart and sound intentions. I remember his fierce defiance and will to do the right thing that marked him as one of the bravest and most altruistic men I've ever known."

"He always was a such hero, wasn't he," Remus softly murmured, smiling to himself. "A knight in shining armour."

And as they went on talking and remembering, the automatically moving quill swished back and forth on the long parchment set on the table. A whole stack of parchments were already full, all with the title of "Harry Potter As We Knew Him: The Biograph of a True Hero".

* * *

It had been exactly a year now.

A year without Harry.

Draco had been angry at first, so angry that Harry had chosen to give his life.

Then he had felt the horrible tug of guilt, because Harry had done if just for him.

The overwhelming grief had swiftly followed, smothering him like a suffocating blanket until his friends and his mother made him realize there were other things to live for, too.

And then the bittersweet sense of accepting had arrived.

_Gone, but never forgotten. That's what they say, anyway._

Draco watched the small candle that floated on top of a water lily, gentle waves helping it to make its way gradually away from the shore. The soft, orange light was flickering as the blackness of the lake surrounded it, but still it kept stubbornly on. Draco whispered an incantation and threads of gold formed a shimmering shield around the candle, protecting it from the splashes of water as it drifted further away.

_So beautiful._

Soon, the candle was but a speck of gold and orange in the dark horizon and Draco sat down on the warmed patch of grass, slowly folding his feet underneath him. It was quiet and dark, just the soft chant of crickets crooning in the air. Blaise had asked whether he wanted some company, but there were some moments that Draco wanted to experience by himself.

_Moments when I need to be alone. _

Under the luminous sky of stars, Draco craned his neck to look up. One of the largest stars, bright like the sun itself, winked down on him.

Draco smiled.

"Goodbye, Harry."

* * *

_* This is taken from Buffy, the Vampire Slayer. With slight modifications, the same text was on her tomb stone when she died. _


End file.
